


Where Are You Now?

by ashleyfanfic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, North of the Wall, Power Corrupts, Resurrection, This is not kind to the Starks, Volantis, allies still exist, bran is an evil mastermind, bride of fire, dany isn't exactly good, does destiny determine our fates, dream walking, everyone is a puppet of someone else, gonna go a bit off script here in later parts, groom of fire, jon isn't happy she killed a bunch of innocent people, jon killed her and she's super not happy with that, journey with me as I try to fix the shit show they created, power is power, prophetic dream, red temple, sansa is too, smut will happen, takes place after 8x06, the night king isn't exactly gone, the same side of the coin, the starks aren't the good guys, the wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-03-14 16:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/pseuds/ashleyfanfic
Summary: Jon is living beyond the wall, but in the East, the Bride of Fire has been reborn and is doubting the fate that lays before her. And in King's Landing, the power there rests uneasily.





	1. Chapter 1 - Where Are You Now

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know where this one came from. After the warm reception of my Tormund fic, I felt like I needed to write more about this. I think the fandom as a whole agrees that Drogon took Dany to the Red Temple to fuck shit up when she is eventually resurrected. This is just my take. 
> 
> Thanks to TheWolvenStorm for the beta on this. JW was busy or I would have asked her to make me a mood board.

_It came to the end it seems you had heard._   
_As we walked the city streets,_   
_You never said a word._

_When we finally sat down_   
_Your eyes were full of spite._   
_I was desperate, I was weak_   
_I could not put up a fight._

_But where are you now?_   
_Where are you now?_   
_Do you ever think of me_   
_In the quiet, in the crowd?_

_You were strangely less in pain_   
_Than you were cold._   
_Triumphant in your mind_   
_Of the logic that you hold._

_You said no one would ever know_   
_The love that we had shared._   
_As I took my leave to go_   
_It was clear you didn’t care._

_And where are you now?_   
_Where are you now?_   
_Do you ever think of me_   
_In the quiet, in the crowd?_

_But where are you now?_   
_Where are you now?_   
_Do you ever think of me_   
_In the quiet, in the crowd?_

_And I hear of your coming_   
_And your going in the town._   
_I hear stories of your smile,_   
_I hear stories of your frown._

_And the darkness can descend,_   
_We can relish all the pain._   
_But I know that’s what you love,_   
_'Cause you know I love the same._

_But where are you now?_   
_Where are you now?_   
_Do you ever think of me_   
_In the quiet, in the crowd?_

_But where are you now?_   
_Where are you now?_   
_Do you ever think of me_   
_In the quiet, in the crowd?_

_But where are you now?_   
_Where are you now?_   
_Do you ever think of me_   
_In the quiet, in the crowd?_

_Where Are You Now_   
**Mumford and Sons**  
  


 

She gasped as she sat up, her hands shaking as they came up to the wound above her heart. She tried to take a deep breath, but everything came out as a pant. She looked around and saw she was on some sort of alter and there were several people scattered around her, all kneeling. She remembered it so well. There was so much hope as he’d kissed her. She felt it in her heart and spread throughout her body. He was going to be hers and she would be his. Together. 

 

But the feel of the knife piercing her chest caused her to cry out and try to scramble from the table. A woman rushed forward, a robe to cover her as she caught her before she hit the floor. The woman held her as she cried, releasing all the anger and fear that flowed through her veins, leaving a resolute sadness. 

 

She looked up when the others left the room but the woman held on to her. She finally stopped crying and just sat within the circle of her arms. “I am sorry it came to this, Daenerys Stormborn.”

 

She wiped at her eyes and looked down at the stab wound just above her breast. “He actually betrayed me,” she whispered. “I thought he loved me enough...”

 

“He was played. Both of you have been played for a while,” she said softly and stood, helping Daenerys to her feet. “Come there is much to discuss.”

 

*~*

 

Daenerys had been led to another chamber where a scaling bath had been drawn, the others in the room leaving her alone with the other woman. “Who are you?”

 

“Kinvara, my queen.”

 

“I know your name. You are the one who helped the people in Meereen. You left before I came back.”

 

She nodded. “A messenger called me home. I had to come to receive it. Ill words. Dangerous omens. Melisandre didn’t listen when she left. She simply wanted it over. Wanted her life to be over. She misinterpreted everything and failed our lord in the process. She made the kingdom vulnerable by her actions.”

 

“What did she get wrong?”

 

“Jon Snow is not ice. He is a Targaryen. He is a dragon. The Groom of Fire. He was raised by wolves in ice but that never made him less of a dragon,” she said as she held Daenerys into the tub. “You and Jon Snow were supposed to meet, unite, create a new generation of dragons. It’s what led you to one another. But Melisandre's time beyond the wall had warped her visions. She thought that you were two halves of the same coin, but you were one side.”

 

“Who is ice?”

 

“It was Night King. But when he touched Bran Stark, he passed along his essence into the boy. The Night King’s original body died, but his spirit lives on in Bran Stark. By Arya Stark killing the Night King, and not Jon Snow, she changed what had been in place.”

 

She shook her head, confused. “Bran said that the Night King wanted to kill him because he had all the memories of the world.”

 

Kinvara scrubbed her as she spoke. “No, my queen. He wasn’t trying to  _ kill _ Bran. He was trying to unite them. It’s why the Night King feared Jon, why he never faced him on the battlefield. Jon was supposed to be the one to kill him, but Bran warged the dead dragon and kept him between them.” She sighed. “That was Jon’s purpose. To give you a baby and kill the Night King. He only succeeded in one of those.”

 

Dany put her hands over her flat belly. “I can’t...I can’t be pregnant.”

 

Kinvara looked down and frowned. “You were.”

 

She felt tears in her eyes. “Until he killed me.”

 

She went about washing Dany’s hair as she settled with the thought that she lost another baby. One she didn’t know was possible until she knew it was gone. Jon had doubted the curse. Had even rolled his eyes at the mention of it. It broke her heart to realize he’d been right. They had created a life together, made with love. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered how he’d held her on the boat, how he seemed as amazed by their love as she had been. Now, to know that they had made something beautiful and...destroyed it when he stuck a dagger in her heart. She mourned the child, wondering if it would have been a girl or boy. Would it have had his sullen eyes or her light hair? Would that have made her feel whole again? Would she have even wanted the throne if she knew that a child was possible? Would she have felt so alone in the world? She went through the motions of the bath and when she was finished, Kinvara led her to a bedroom in the temple. “Tell me the rest of it,” she said softly.

 

Kinvara helped her dress as she spoke. “Bran Stark, not wholly the Night King, knew that he could manipulate your beloved into revealing his secret to his sisters and he knew that Sansa Stark could not be trusted. Sansa feels hatred for you. You were a powerful queen, everything she wanted to be, and you had taken her power away because of Jon Snow’s love for you.” She sat Daenerys down at the vanity and began brushing out her hair. “He knew Arya Stark would keep her word, but Sansa Stark had been playing her own game from the moment it was revealed that Ramsay Bolton had their brother Rickon.” She brushed through the silky tresses as Daenerys listened to how she was betrayed. “Bran sent Tyrion to Sansa. Told her where he could find her to say goodbye. He also knew that Tyrion would tell Varys as they were so close and Varys had already expressed doubts about being able to get you to listen.”

 

She looked down at her hands and shook her head. “What-what’s happened? Did they kill Jon?”

 

“No, Your Grace. They have him in a cell to decide what to do with him.”

 

“And what will they do with him?” she asked, hating that she felt any sympathy for him. He had betrayed her. But Jon wasn’t a man for cruelty. He would know the depths to which she loved him and he betrayed her. There had been that blissful moment before the knife, the hope she’d felt, the feel of his lips against hers. He could have loved her if he’d tried. He could have ruled with her and they could have made it a better place. They could have ruled in peace and spent their lives together. Part of her wanted him to die for what he did to her. But the part that still loved him wanted his love in return. She wanted to know what she gave up for him had been worth it. “ _ You will always be my queen _ .” Did he regret it? Would he always regret it if so? If he didn’t, did she ever know him at all?

 

Kinvara gave her a small smile. “He will live. But not as a king. They will send him where he became a man. Where he was killed.”

 

“The Night’s Watch,” she said softly. She shook her head. “Who will be king?”

 

“Bran Stark.” Daenerys’s eyes lifted to hers. “Do you know why your dragon flew towards the people?”

 

“Because...because I made it.”

 

“No, my queen, you did not. The Lord of Light made it very clear your target was Cersei Lannister in the Red Keep. But a voice began whispering to you, telling you that you couldn’t leave them. Do you remember? That the soldiers could never be trusted. They had blended in with the common people. You had to burn them to cleanse it all.”

 

She looked at her hands and shook her head. “I hardly remember any of it. Just fire.”

 

Kinvara frowned and knelt in front of Daenerys. “My queen, you were the Bride of Fire. The Mother of Dragons. That wasn’t a mistake. It was done with a purpose. You freed the slaves and made those who would oppress people suffer.” She took her hands. “You were brought to us by the Lord of Light. You have survived because, without you, the world would have been covered in ice. You saved the world and the world forgot.” She stood and cupped her face. “We will get Jon Snow. And we will eliminate the threat that looms over Westeros.”

 

Daenerys pulled away from her and walked toward the bed. “I’m done fighting. I can’t. I lost control. Everyone I loved either betrayed me or died...”

 

Kinvara moved in front of her, her gaze turning serious. “My Queen, there is no choice. Bran Stark is a danger to the world. He saw everything that was going to happen. He could have stopped any of it and he didn’t. He knew Missandei would die. He knew Rhaegal would die. He knew Varys would betray you.” She stood up straight. “He knew Tyrion would betray you and now he’s the Hand of the King. You have to see that you are our only hope. You will be the only one who can convince Jon Snow.”

 

“Convince Jon Snow? I have no intention of ever seeing him again,” she said emphatically. “I never want to look upon him.”

 

“You must,” she insisted. She suddenly stood up straight and backed away from Daenerys. “But I understand you will need time. But we don’t have long. His sister sits on the throne in Winterfell. Already she’s making dangerous moves.”

 

*~*

 

_ She stood at the waterfall, overlooking the snow-covered grounds. Unlike the last time she was here, she was dressed for warmer climes. She looked down to see the pale dress Viserys had given her to meet Drogo for the first time. Her braids were gone and her hair whipped in the breeze. Would he be here? Would he be disappointed to see her? _

 

_ “Dany?”  _

 

_ She turned abruptly to see Jon standing in front of her, his hair unbound, dressed all in black, looking torn between horror and happiness. He took a step forward and she took one back. She shook her head. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. _

 

_ She saw his eyes fill with tears and he looked down at his gloved covered hands. The sight of one tracking down his face broke a piece of her already broken heart. How could she still feel anything for this man? “I promised myself that if I ever got the chance I would tell you how sorry I was. I question my decision every second of every day.” _

 

_ “You should. I trusted you. I gave you everything I had and you killed me. You didn’t speak to me. You didn’t question me. You didn’t say anything except that I would always be your queen. And then you did the most horrible thing you could do. You gave me hope,” she said, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks. “That kiss was the biggest treachery,” she whispered. _

 

_ He stepped forward and she stepped back. He held open his cloak and showed her he was unarmed. “I’ll never do it, again.” _

 

_ “You say that now, after I’ve already been killed at your hand.” The hole in her heart ached. “We almost have matching scars. We both know what it feels like to be betrayed by the people we’re supposed to trust. Only, the difference is I loved you. I would have...given anything for you, Jon.” _

 

_ He looked up at her, his expression full of pain. “I’d take it back if I could.” _

 

_ “Would you? Would you really? Or do you feel justified in what you did? That I was mad. I needed to be stopped. Varys betrayed me. Tyrion betrayed me. You betrayed me. Tell me, would you really still your hand?” _

 

_ He nodded. “I’d like to think I would.” _

 

_ She shook her head. “The only person in this world who ever really loved me, just me, was Missandei. She was my advisor and my best friend. She was good, she was kind and they killed her! You...you never even sought to comfort me. The more I was around you, the more alone I felt because I was never...actually a choice for you. I was a whim you chanced on.” _

 

_ “That’s not true,” he said closing the distance between them before she could step back. “I loved you. I was loyal to you. I would have done anything for you. But you had no remorse, Dany. You killed hundreds of thousands of innocent people. That wasn’t the woman I fell in love with. That woman was gone and in her place was someone I didn’t recognize.” _

 

_ “Madness. When do you think I went mad? Was it losing my trusted advisor and oldest friend, Jorah? A man who gave his life to protect me. Was it losing Rhaegal as he flew in the air beside me? Watching that bolt hit him in the chest, one in the shoulder, and then the throat? Watching him plummet to the water? Watching the Mountain behead Missandei? Beautiful, sweet, kind Missandei who had never done anything wrong. Who loved a man, was loved by a man, because her heart was so big she took everyone to be part of her people even as they rejected her.” She stepped forward. “Was it the betrayal of the man I love? Trusting his treacherous sister, excuse me, cousin, to keep his secret? And immediately, my advisors start discussing how to get rid of me in favor of you. When exactly do you think the madness took hold?” _

 

_ “When you decided that you would do anything, cross any line, to achieve your goals.” _

 

_ She nodded. “When I was alone. Isolated from everyone.” She turned from him and shook her head as she looked at the waterfall. “Do you know why we’re here?” _

 

_ “No,” he answered softly.  _

 

_ “This is the last place I felt happiness,” she said as she looked around. “It was the first time I ever considered a life that didn’t include the throne. It was just you and me and my dragons.” _

 

_ He was standing beside her now. “Would that have made you happy?” _

 

_ She nodded and looked at him. “Yes,” she finally whispered. “But it died. It died with Jorah, Rhaegal, Missandei, and me.” She looked over at him. “This can never be ours. It was a stupid dream of a stupid girl who believed that she had it all for a few moments. I thought, truly thought, that I could be queen and save people and have a man I loved and who loved me in return at my side,” she said with a shake of her head. “I was such a fool.” _

 

_ He looked over at her. “I was a fool, too. I thought it would be so simple. I thought my family would see how wonderful you were. How special. I thought they would see that you were coming to save all of our lives and instead they treated you with hostility and distrust.” He shook his head. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I truly am. I still don’t know that I made the right decision. It haunts me.” _

 

_ She turned to face him and put a hand over her heart, over the hole his blade had left. “It haunts me, too.” _

 

_ He shook his head. “You would have been better to have never met me.” _

 

_ She closed her eyes. “I would have vehemently disagreed with you before. I truly believed you were one of the best things to ever happen to me because I realized I could love someone and be loved for who I was. You saw the real me.” She pressed her lips together as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “But I don’t know that I can feel anything but regret, now. I wish I had never left Meereen.” _

 

_ He hesitantly took her arms in his hands. “I would give anything to have back that time with you on the ship. Just the two of us. The war a distant thought. All the times you made me laugh, made my heart stop with a look, or my breath catch because of how I felt for you.” _

 

_ “That was a fantasy.” _

 

_ “It was perfect,” he said as he brushed her hair from her face. “Once I learned about my parents, I was so torn. Targaryen or Stark.” _

 

_ She shook her head. “I never made you choose. You never had to. You were both. A Stark and a Targaryen.” _

 

_ His grip tightened a bit. “How is it you always manage to throw my own words back in my face?” _

 

_ “I didn’t realize I did that.” _

 

_ He nodded. “I said the same thing to Theon. He was a Stark and a Greyjoy,” he said softly. “I love you, Dany. Even now. I think about you all the time. I sometimes think I can smell you, hear your voice on the air. I hate what I did. You must know that.” _

 

_ She put her hand on his chest. “I know you hate you felt you had to do it. I don’t know that you hate it.” _

 

_ He looked around and then back at her face. “Is this a dream?” _

 

_ She nodded. “Of course it is. You killed me, remember,” she hissed. _

 

_ “It feels more real than a dream.” _

 

_ She leaned into him and frowned. “If this was real, I would never allow you to be this close to me. I would want to trust you, but I don’t think I would.” _

 

_ He placed a kiss at her brow. “I love you. I will always, always love you.” _

 

_ “Perhaps that’s your eternal punishment,” she whispered. “You have to live with the knowledge that I loved you, trusted you, and never doubted you. I was open. I tried. I would have given you anything you asked for. Perhaps you have to live with the guilt of that for the rest of your life.” _

 

_ “I do and I will,” he promised as he continued to hold her close. “Will I see you in my dreams, again?” _

 

_ She held him close, realizing what he didn’t and that this wasn’t a dream but a dream walk together. “I’ll be with you, Jon. I’m yours and you’re mine,” she whispered. _

 

_ “Make me mad with your face,” he said softly. “Don’t let me ever forget that we had something beautiful and real.” _

 

_ “And the world took it from us,” she said softly. “Tricked us out of it.” _

 

When she opened her eyes, her pillow was wet beneath her, as tears had been falling down her face. She slowly sat up in bed, her sobs coming in gasping breaths. She buried her face in her hands, remembering the feel of his strength beneath her fingers, the warmth of his skin, and she felt empty without it. 

 

After a while, she finally calmed and stared at her hands, knowing that Kinvara was right. They weren’t two sides of the same coin. They were the same side. Bereft without one another. She needed him. He needed her. 

 

But he’d stuck a knife in her heart. Could she actually trust him not to do it again? 

 

She closed her eyes, realizing that if what Kinvara was saying was correct, there were bigger dangers in the world than her.

 

*~*

 

Tyrion watched Bran as the council met. Bronn was arguing with Sam about something, but he had stopped listening as he noticed that their king was tense, a worried look in his eyes. He hadn’t seen him look that way, even during the preparations for the Battle of Winterfell. 

 

Bran wasn’t someone who worried. He also wasn’t one to reveal everything and when he could tell Bran wasn’t listening to their conversation, he asked everyone to leave them alone. 

 

Finally, after the others had left the room, Tyrion took a deep breath. “You must tell me what has you worried.”

 

He looked at his hands, then Tyrion. “Something is blocking my sight.”

 

He sat down at this. “Something?”

 

“Some sort of magic. I had been trying to follow Drogon, to see where he went and what happened with Daenerys’s body. It’s been two moons since I stopped being able to see him.”

 

Tyrion did the calculations in his head and realized that was only a day after he had taken off with her body. “Where did you see him last?”

 

Bran looked up at his hand, a worried look on his face. "Near Volantis.”

 

Tyrion nearly spilled his wine on the floor. “The kingdom of the red priests and priestesses. The ones capable of raising the dead?”

 

He nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened. Their...god blocks me from seeing.”

 

“Tell me that you aren’t worried,” Tyrion pleaded. He needed the reassurance for his own sanity.

 

Bran frowned. “I wish I could. But there are those in that temple that could raise her from the dead. And with their power behind her, Drogon still very much alive and vengeful, this could be incredibly bad.”

 

“She’ll come after us. All of us,” he hissed.

 

Bran frowned. “Jon first. She’d go after the man that actually killed her.”

 

“We need to send him a raven. Warn him.”

 

He shook his head and Tyrion looked at him with a heavy brow. “Jon is wandering with the Wildlings. We’d never reach him in time.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “How do we stop them?”

 

Bran frowned. “I don’t know. I couldn’t warg the dragon, though I tried.”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “This could be terrible.”

 

“It’s certainly not good,” he said and Tyrion looked at him in concern. 

 

“What about your ravens? Can you get those to look over the world.”

 

“That could take a while.”

 

“But you would know where to start. We don’t know she’s alive for sure, do we?”

 

“No. But I think we need to start preparing for the worst,” Bran answered, and it unnerved Tyrion.


	2. Chapter 2 - Dust to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinvara starts to truly lay out what happened to Daenerys and what led to her downfall. Jon is dwelling in his dreams, causing others to believe he could be going mad. Their dreams continue to push them together even as she fights to stay apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to TheWolvenStorm for betaing this for me! She really helped to make this chapter what it is. 
> 
> I know some people are questioning whether or not Daenerys asked Jon to choose between being a Targaryen or a Stark. But the way I read that is that she's not put off by him being a Targaryen as much as she realizes that the news would cause her downfall. She knew people would plot to take her out, she knew that her life would be forfeit. I think it had more to do with THAT than it did that she had a problem with him being a Targaryen. It mattered more what other people would think.
> 
> So, yeah, I told you more dream walking and here it is. Also, keep in mind, Jon has no idea that she's alive.

  


Jon sat up in a sweaty tangle, even though it was freezing beyond the wall. Every time he dreamed of her, he would wake up even more disheartened than he was before, questioning every choice he made from the second he was resurrected until he embedded the knife in her heart. He hated himself for it. There was nothing anyone could do or say to bring him peace or convince him he had been right. 

  


It would never be right.

  


He got to his feet and climbed out of his tent, letting the cold Northern air cool his skin. There were only a few of the Free Folk milling about so early in the morning, Tormund being one of them. He was already approaching him by the time he realized it. He held out a bowl of something hot and Jon took it with a nod. “Another one?”

  


Jon nodded. Tormund was the only one who knew he still dreamed of her. That his dreams were so real and vivid that he would wake shaking. He never gave his opinion, always keeping it to himself. Instead, he would only clap him on the back and tell him that they were heading out soon and to be ready. Ghost joined him soon after, nudging him with his snout. He missed having dreams of hunting as his familiar, running through the woods, chasing down prey. Now, it almost felt like he was the prey. He’d told her to haunt him with her face and she was doing it. Keeping him chasing her, feeling sadness and pity while also feeling relieved to see her. 

  


He would never get over this. He would never not suffer for what he did. He became everything he’d always hated. Oathbreaker, Kinslayer, Queenslayer. That’s how the world would think of him. His men had betrayed him for doing what he thought was right. He’d hanged them for it. Now, he was left to mourn her, question his decision, punish himself. There was nothing anyone could ever do or say to make him feel better about what he did. He’d killed her and he was paying the price. 

  


He shook his head.  _ No, that’s not true _ , he thought.  _ She paid the price _ .

  


He mounted up on his horse and followed the rest as they began their long trek North. The more time that passed, the more his own heart ached, as if it was missing something vital, something important, his reason for living. He knew what it was. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her pleading with him to do this together. 

  


It didn’t matter, now. She was gone, and the only place he would ever see her again was in his dreams.

  


*~*

  


Daenerys sat in the hall with the priests and priestesses. All from different races and backgrounds. It reminded her of dinners with her friends and confidants. Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah, even Tyrion. It hurt her to think about it, the hole where the blade had been embedded into her chest throbbed. She wondered if that would ever stop. Would it ever not hurt?

  


Kinvara entered and bowed to Daenerys. “We just found a murder of crows trying to fly over our temple.”

  


Daenerys frowned and looked down at her hands. “I could stay here and protect Essos.”

  


One of the other priests, Dansax, spoke. “My queen, we would appreciate your help. We truly would. But the truth is the evil that will spread over Westeros will eventually find its way here. He’s already sent crows to spy. It’s only a matter of time before he sends troops. And they would follow him because they would think he was doing the right thing, never knowing they’re being manipulated.

  


She stood from the table and looked at Kinvara. “Can I see my dragon?”

  


“Of course. He’s at the top of the temple.”

  


Kinvara led her out and she stood at the base of until the dragon came to land beside them. He immediately nuzzled her with his nose, feeling his happiness to see her through their connection. He wrapped around her as best he could, having grown even larger. She leaned her face against his scales and began crying into him. He cooed under her, trying to offer comfort. “You’re all I have left.”

  


She rubbed her hands over him, feeling his strength and heat beneath her hands. It was the first time since she’d been reborn that she felt peace. He had brought that to her. She rubbed her hands over his scaly hide and looked at Kinvara who watched them carefully. “Why didn’t he kill Jon?”

  


Kinvara took a deep breath. “Because our Lord would not allow him to. You see, Daenerys Stormborn, the dragons are fire made flesh. The Lord of Light controls fire. He was able to bring Drogon here with your body.”

  


“They know how to kill the dragons,” she said softly. 

  


“They can’t kill a dragon that has a rider. You will no longer be on the dragon without armor. You will be preserved, Daenerys.”

  


“How did Bran do it?” she asked.

  


“He made you vulnerable. He has the gift for foresight. He’s able to see things that are going to happen. He knew that separating you and Jon was the only way to keep his path open. If you were united, as you had been when you arrived in the North, he never could have taken power. So he stayed silent and said nothing.” She took a step toward her and Daenerys watched her face grow sad as she told the tale. “This started with Samwell Tarly. You were honest with him about his family and Bran was outside waiting for him. He knew Sam was angry with you, hurt, questioning how his friend could follow you, and he insisted that Sam tell Jon about what they knew then and there. Sam found him in the crypts, told him about his family first. Then, he told Jon who he really was. Asked him if you would give up your crown for him since he would give his up for you.”

  


Daenerys shook her head. “I’d never considered it before Jon took me to the waterfall. It was...the first time I had ever felt at peace and it was because of him. I don’t think I’ll ever have that again.”

  


Kinvara tilted her head and gave her a small smile. “You have to understand, my queen, you were being set up for a downfall. Jon being Aegon Targaryen worked to his advantage. It would call into question your right to the throne and put you at odds with Jon. This was all about isolating you. Jorah knew to run outside the walls because Bran put it in his mind. His death was the first in the chain. Bran sat by and allowed the men in that hall to speak about the glory of others while he knew everything that you did. You saved Jon Snow’s life during the battle. You’re the one that unseated the Night King. He couldn’t let you have that moment. With everyone being drunk, he was able to control them for little bursts. That’s why he left early. He was manipulating everything to make you feel more alone. When you went to Jon Snow that night, it was going to be a reuniting. Our Lord had planned it, but Bran made him pull away.”

  


Dany lowered her head, remembering how it had felt when he’d pulled her to him and their lips had crashed together. How she felt his love and desperation to hold her. She knew that the revelation of his family could be a problem, she just never thought his rejection could make her feel so alone. 

  


“Euron Greyjoy was already waiting for you at Dragonstone. Bran said nothing during the meeting. He allowed Sansa and Arya to question you and cause problems. It’s when they insisted he was their brother that Jon finally allowed  _ Bran _ to tell them the truth. Bran knew the dragon would fall without Jon. He knew Missandei would be captured. He did nothing because he needed all of it to happen to isolate you away from your other part.”

  


She leaned against Drogon and felt tears sliding down her face. “I was alone.”

  


Kinvara nodded. “Yes. I’m so sorry about that, my queen. But you will not be alone, again. We are here to fight for you. The Lord of Light has brought you back because you are what this world needs.”

  


Daenerys shook her head. “I burned an entire city.”

  


“You were used, Daenerys,” she said stepping closer and she noticed that Drogon didn’t move. “Your emotions were used against you. Drogon feeds off of those. Bran manipulated you.” She took a deep breath. “He warged into you,” she whispered.

  


“What?”

  


“Skinwalking,” she said softly. “He’s done it before to his servant, Hodor. You said yourself, your goal had been to fly to the Red Keep and kill the false queen, correct?” Daenerys nodded. “Why then would you start killing innocents? You’ve never done that before. You’ve always been about preserving innocent life. But because you were in such a fragile state, mourning, grieving, Brandon Stark was able to take control.”

  


She shook her head. “I remember watching them burn.”

  


Kinvara nodded. “Because they did. I won’t say it didn’t bring you some peace, because we both know that would be untrue. You had suffered so much in so little time.”

  


She took a moment to let what she said sink in. It hadn’t been all her. She felt shame that some of it had been. She had to ask, just to be sure. “Am I mad?”

  


“No, my queen,” her voice soft and reassuring.

  


“Are you sure?” she couldn’t help the doubt that plagued her. 

  


Kinvara placed a hand on Drogon who only tittered under her touch. “I am not. But all I’ve ever known and seen about you, all our Lord has ever shown us about you, lead us to  _ know _   that you are a good woman who believes in life.” She stepped forward and put a hand over her belly. “You’ve already reaped death, now you will bring life.”

  


Daenerys stepped away from her and shook her head. “I will not.”

  


“You are not cursed. Your body has been waiting for the right part. Jon Snow, Aegon Targaryen, is that part.”

  


“I’ll never let him near me again,” she hissed.

  


“You already have,” she said with a tilt of her head. “Jon Snow is as much as part of you as you are of him. He lives with the guilt of what he did. And his sister and brother know it. Jon is a threat to them, especially with a Wildling army at his back. He’s vulnerable in the North, and Sansa fears him.”

  


“Why?” She asked though she didn’t know why she was concerned. She closed her eyes, realizing she was lying to herself. She knew why. 

  


“Because he is the last male heir to the Targaryen line. Despite having the title of Oathbreaker or Kinslayer, he’s still preferred over her and even her brother. Her reign will always be in doubt, especially since the Lords of the North know she broke a vow to him in a Godswood.” She took Daenerys’s hand. “Jon Snow was used just as you were. His honor and loyalty used against him. Only his loyalty was misplaced. They weren’t the people he knew and he trusted them when he should not. He did not fully grasp that your life would be in danger if he revealed the secret. He truly never wanted the throne.”

  


She lowered her head, fighting back the tears, hearing how he was betrayed. She hated she felt anything for him. She hated that she wanted to save him and talk to him. She wanted to let go, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Perhaps, not ever. “Now what? I go back to Westeros and trust him not to kill me, again?”

  


“Believe me when I say that he is punishing himself every day with the knowledge that he killed the woman that loved him. We will make it clear to him his importance in the war left to fight. There is not an option for him to sit aside. He must realize the danger that has been unleashed on the world. We will make him see it, together.”

  


Daenerys nodded then leaned her head against Drogon. Her last companion. Her child. How she loved him and trusted him. He’d never betrayed her, even when he was angry with her. He had always defended her, come to her rescue. He hadn’t perceived Jon as a threat because he could sense the love between them. But then, she never sensed that he could be a threat. She leaned into the warmth of Drogon, wondering how she could possibly go forward with any of this. “How could I trust him again?”

  


Kinvara smiled. “You will because he is the groom of fire. One to dread, one to bed, and one to love. Jon Snow is the love, my queen.” She tilted her head. “Sansa has already begun making Jon and the Wildlings enemies of her kingdom. She sent a group loyal to her, from the Eyrie, into Castle Black and they murdered all the men there and made it look like the Wildlings. She’s had these same men attack small encampments and leaving one or two alive to be able to tell her that it was Wildlings. She’s already amassed an army to attack and kill them all and she’ll make sure Jon is dead. They’ve been ordered to bring her his head. If she succeeds, he won’t live through it.”

  


She took a deep breath, still feeling anger racing through her blood, the feel of the blade as it pierced her heart. But the thought of Jon being killed by Sansa, when he trusted her so fully, made her blood sing with the need for vengeance.  “When do we begin?”

  


“Tomorrow, my queen. We’ve already prepared the ships.”

  


*~*

  


_ He looked around the small cabin, touching the coverlet of the bed. The candles flickered in the room and he took a deep breath, ready to see her again.  _

  


_ “Not my ideal location,” she said softly. He turned to face her and she was standing in a red dress, her eyes haunted as they looked away from him and at the room they were in. “Are we on the ship?” _

  


_ She looked beautiful, her hair in one single braid instead of the intricate braids he’d seen her wear during most of their history together.  _

  


_ “I believe so. You look beautiful.” _

  


_ “For someone dead?” He felt his heart twist at her words. He remained quiet, just watching her as she looked around at the room. She looked wistful for a moment, touching a hand to the bed. Then she then turned her eyes back to him and the softness slowly drifted away as she stared at him. “Why are we here?” _

  


_ Jon looked around and sat on the edge of the bed. “This was where I finally went after something that was just for me. I’d never done that before, not really. I’d always been a slave to duty.” _

  


_ “A dragon is not a slave,” she said softly as she stood in front of him. “That’s where you made your mistake. You were always better than that. I knew it from the moment I met you.” _

  


_ He took her hand. “I was in love with you long before I admitted it to myself. I knew when you agreed with me in the room with the painted table that I wasn’t going to squander the opportunity. I loved you. I hoped you loved me.” _

  


_ “I did. I didn’t think I was capable of that anymore. You proved me wrong,” she said as she lifted a hand and cupped his face. “I loved you. I loved you, Jon. And you broke my heart. I know you didn’t realize the danger you put me in. I do. You never would have thought your sister was capable of betraying you. But you underestimated her hatred for me and her own ambition.” _

  


_ He put a kiss in the palm of her hand and he couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes. “I don’t forgive her for it. I can’t.” _

  


_ “Good. I don’t forgive you, either.” _

  


_ He shook his head. “I don’t want you to. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” _

  


_ “You don’t. Not yet. Not until your life makes up for taking mine. I know what I did. I do. I know what happened in King’s Landing. I did something I swore I would never do. I hate it,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “I was so lost and alone...I couldn’t feel anything but pain. But you were hope,” she cried. “You were my hope.” _

  


_ He stood and took her face in his hands, feeling tears track down his face. “I-I’d take it back if I could. I’d take you away. Never let anything else hurt you.” _

  


_ “You took that from us,” she said as she grasped his wrists. “How would you expect me to trust you now?” _

  


_ “You know I’m a man of my word, Dany.” _

  


_ She shook her head. “You broke your word to me. I would always be your queen, right?” _

  


_ “You  _ **_are_ ** _ my queen.” _

  


_ “You killed me,” she hissed. _

  


_ He felt himself crumble to his knees in front of her, the boat disappearing around him, leaving them in darkness. “I’m sorry,” he said as he buried his face into her belly. “I hate myself.” _

  


_ “I hate you, too. But I love you,” she said as she removed his hands from around her waist, moved to her knees in front of him, and pressed her lips to his. “I don’t want to love you.” _

  


_ She brushed his tears away and she leaned in and kissed him. His tears mixed with hers, and he hugged her to him, wanting to feel her pressed against him again. She didn’t break the kiss, instead, she deepened it. He tore at the robe she was wearing and she helped him, lost in the dream of her. He finally got it off her shoulders and she broke the kiss and pulled away. She looked down at her chest and he saw it. The hole he’d put in her heart. He lowered his head and wept into her arms.  _

  


He sat up, trying to draw in a deep enough breath. Ghost was at his side, whimpering as he wiped at his face. But still, tears continued to fall. He put his head in his hands, shaking as he replayed the worst moment of his life over and over again. He could still feel her in his arms, still see the shock on her face as he’d betrayed her. He remembered feeling the life leave her.

  


He wished Drogon had killed him, burned him as he’d burned the throne. He wished he’d died with her, not wanting to endure this life without her. She needed him and he backed away from her. “Dany,” he whispered to no one. “I’m sorry.”

  


*~*

  


She was so tired, but she was avoiding sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, he was there. His pain felt so real, so tangible. When she’d wake up call she’d feel his tears on her hands or her chest. She sat in the chair and frowned, fighting sleep. But if she was still she knew she would drift off and be sucked into the world with him. She didn’t want more reminders. She knew it would be hard enough to actually face him, allowing herself to see him so vulnerable was making it harder to hate him.

  


She wanted to hate him. She wanted to know that his life was miserable without her. That he lived with the pain and regret of what he did because she was living with it. She wanted him to suffer for doing this to her, from taking from her, and proving that there truly was no one she could trust. She loved him. How she had loved him! She had given him everything, her armies, her dragons, her trust, her love, and she had nothing to show for it but a hole in her heart and the knowledge that the man who professed to love her was still capable of killing her. 

  


She knew what she did in King’s Landing, whether it was totally under her control or not. She knew that the lives of thousands of people rested at her feet, their blood coating her hands. But could there have been a point where they never would have been in that state? If Kinvara was to be believed, and she hated to admit that she did, then she was used to eliminate the threat in the North, and once her usefulness ran out, she was discarded. The thought that Bran Stark knew that her dragon would die, that Missandei would die, that Sansa would betray Jon, that Tyrion and Varys would betray her, she knew that what happened to King’s Landing was as much his fault as it was hers. 

  


Her body was already tired. Tired of dealing with the emotional toll all of this was taking on her. Tired of feeling things for a man who betrayed her. Tired of considering that everything she had worked for her whole life had been destroyed. Other men would take her accomplishments and bask in  _her_ glory. She wouldn’t be remembered as the savior. She would only be remembered as a tyrant, and that sent a chill up her spin and cased the hole in her heart to pulse with a deep ache. 

  


She finally gave in and laid on the bed and drifted off to sleep. 

  


_ “No,” she breathed out harshly as she realized they were in the throne room of the Red Keep. Jon looked as unhappy to be there as she was. But this time, they were bystanders, watching her death play out in front of them. He turned his back to it, unable to handle the sight. She couldn't turn away. She was telling him they could rule together, that the people didn’t get a choice. That wasn’t like her. She’d always believed in choice. She walked closer, watching his face as she hadn’t before. _

  


_ He was desperate. He was hurt. The tears in his eyes were so obvious she hadn’t seen what was coming because she never thought him capable. He pulled her close, “you will always be my queen,” he said to her and brought their mouths together, and suddenly he was in front of her, blocking her from seeing it. “Don’t watch,” he pleaded. _

  


_ The sound of the dagger piercing her heart filled the room. She moved around him and watched as he held her body and cried. “Why?” _

  


_ “I-I didn’t feel like I had a choice,” he whispered. “You weren’t sorry for what you did. Arya reminded me that Sansa would never bend the knee. Tyrion told me they would never be safe with you alive. And as much as I loved you, I didn’t want anyone else to die.” _

  


_ “Except me.” She grew silent as she took in what he was saying. Arya. Tyrion. Sansa. He was too honorable for this world. Other people had used it to destroy hers. She looked at him, resolute. “Were you sorry for killing Ramsay Bolton? Were you sorry for all the Wildlings you killed while at Castle Black?” She asked as she looked at him. “I told you that sometimes strength was terrible.” _

  


_ “The people you killed in this city were innocent, Dany! Families. The low born never have a choice in war and you know that.” _

  


_ “I do know that, Jon! I’d been working to save them. But they didn’t care! None of them cared! Cersei, Robert, Tommen, Joffrey, you, me...the common people don’t care who rules because their lives never changed. They were still lowborn and...” she stopped as she watched Drogon nudge her dead body with his snout and she started to weep. “The only one who mourned my death...” _

  


_ “I mourn your death,” he insisted. _

  


_ “You served it to me.” She looked at him with anger and regret. “Why do I still love you?” _

  


_ He turned her to face him. “Because I still love you. You’re in my heart, my head. I hear your voice on the wind, I have these dreams about you, and as much as I don’t want to be confronted by you for what I did, I want nothing more than to fall asleep so I can see you. The others all stay away from me. They fear I’m going mad.” He shook his head. He cupped her face and she leaned into his warmth. “But I don’t care if it means I can see you, hold you, talk to you. You’re the light of my life, Dany. I wanted so much to walk into this room and see some remorse. See the woman who risked her dragons to save a group of men on a stupid mission that ultimately failed. I wanted you back and...I don’t know who that woman was. The Dany I knew and loved preserved life when she could. She didn’t burn down cities.” _

  


_ “The woman you knew was already dead inside,” she whispered, clutching his wrists, digging her fingers in, able to feel his pulse. “Killed with the spear to Viscerion, the blades into Jorah, the bolts into Rhaegal, the sword that killed Missandei, the poison in my food from Varys, the deceit of Tyrion, and the betrayal of my love,” she hissed, hot tears streaming down her face. “And let’s not forget your cousin, Sansa. How she must have loved to hear I went mad. Thrilled that she would get everything she wanted. The heir to the throne banished beyond the wall, her own brother king of Westeros, and the North independent. You must realize it’s only a matter of time,” she said as she clutched him harder. “She won’t let you live. You’re a threat. You know you are.” _

  


_ “I’m nowhere near Winterfell and I don’t want it.” _

  


_ “You still don’t understand,” she pleaded, hoping she could make him see. He didn’t understand the politics of the game because he hated it. That would always be his downfall. “It doesn’t matter what you want. It never has. You are too honorable. The rest of the world is not. Sansa was warped, changed by her experiences. She learned manipulation from Cersei and Littlefinger. She played you. She played with all of us.” _

  


_ “You’re right, I don’t understand.” _

  


_ “She’s going to try to kill you, Jon. And no one will be able to stop her. You need allies.” _

  


_ “Who would you suggest?” he scoffed. “She’s my family.” _

  


_ She shook her head, unwilling to reveal it all to him. She couldn’t risk Bran knowing anything. “I don’t know. But despite myself, I worry for you. You were my family, too. And you still killed me. Family means nothing in this world. That was always my mistake, believing that it did.” _

  


_ They were both silent as he held her face in his hands. “Will you visit me tomorrow night?” _

  


_ “Why?” She didn’t understand why he wanted to torture himself like this. These weren’t enjoyable experiences for her. It always hurt when she woke up, it always caused tears and pain.  _

  


_ “I just...want to see you. I’m still in love with you. I still want to hold you and kiss you and...damn everything else. I want you and only you and if I can only have that in my dreams then I will hold onto it tight, and drive myself mad for it.” _

  


_ She stroked her thumb over his jaw. “Madness appears to be a family trait. Are you sure you can handle being with me? Even in your dreams?” _

  


_ “You were my dream, Dany. From the moment I met you, all I could dream about was you.” _

  


_ She gave him a small smile. “I dreamed of you, too.” She leaned up and kissed him. “Dream of me, Jon. Give us the happiness we deserved in life that we didn’t get.” _

  


*~*

  


_ The cave was truly beautiful. It had been an intimate moment between them. He’d first touched her here and she realized she was in danger of falling for this man and his dark eyes. _

  


_ “Fitting we should meet here. I feel like this is the first time I met the real Daenerys,” he said as he stepped up beside her.” _

  


_ She gave him a small smile. “We were alone and I didn’t feel you were a threat. We’d only known each other a short time and I already felt safe with you.” She looked over at him, seeing that he was wearing the same thing he’d been wearing that day. Had she memorized it that well? “Do you think I could ever feel safe with you again?” _

  


_ “I would never hurt you again.” _

  


_ “And what about the rest. Could you love me? Could you be with me? Could you after what I did?” _

  


_ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It reminded her of their first kiss, how unsure he’d been, how needy she felt. It somehow worked between them. It had been perfect. He tore the seam of her dress and she gasped as she pulled his hair, demanding more, harder.  _

  


_ “Claim me,” she murmured. “Take me.” _

  


_ And she was suddenly on her back on the bed, staring up at a canopy. The ship. They were back on the ship and were both gloriously naked. But he had stopped and she didn’t know why. She looked at him to see tears in his eyes as he reached out and touched the hole in her heart. She touched him and that brought him back to her. “Mourn later. Love me, now,” she demanded. _

  


_ She closed her eyes and moaned as he thrust into her. His mouth was on hers again as he continued to fill her up over and over. It felt like they had never been apart. The other piece of her that had been missing found and held within her arms. _

  


_ How could she still feel this way for this man? She gave him everything and he’d...killed her. He breath lodged in her throat, her heart felt like it stopped beating, and her head pounded as she considered that she was letting the man who killed her back into her heart. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall again. She wouldn’t let herself be vulnerable to him. He killed her. He  _ **_killed_ ** _ her. _

  


_ She sat up suddenly, dislodging him from her. She put her hand over her heart and looked at him, shaking her head as she tried to catch her breath. The sadness she saw in his eyes was a balm to her soul. The more she looked at him, the more she realized that he may be the only person in the world who could heal her, but she didn’t trust him, and he knew it. He moved to her side, his hand covering hers over the wound.  _

  


_ “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  _

  


_ She leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know. I do. I wish this was different.” She nodded and looked up at him. “Would you fight for me? If you had it to do over again? Would you actually fight for me? Fight to save me? Comfort me? Trust me?” _

  


_ He leaned his head against hers. “I would,” he whispered. “You were the queen I chose.” _

  


_ “Would you choose me again? Would your honor let you?” _

  


_ “It was my honor that bent the knee in the first place. You showed how you were willing to fight for your people. You were such a force. I failed you. I know. I didn’t defend you properly. I didn’t fight for you. I didn’t comfort you.” He shook his head. “I allowed other people’s opinions of you to color mine. I allowed the weak words of others to taint what we had. And what we had was beautiful,” he said as he stroked her hair. “I regret you gave up so much to save me, and I...didn’t see what was in front of me.” _

  


_ “I needed you. Just you. Not Aegon Targaryen. Jon Snow. The man who professed his love for me. The man who was never afraid to show it. I needed you to love me,” she hated the tears that streamed down her face. “I gave you everything I had and all I got in return was pain and death.” _

  


_ He brushed his hand over her hair. “Do you think you could ever forgive me?” _

  


_ She closed her eyes, wrapped in his warm body. “Not yet. I want to. But I can’t,” she said honestly. _

  


_ “Then I’ll keep trying.” _

  


_ She sat back and looked at him. She brushed her fingers over his jaw. “I do regret what I did in King’s Landing. I’m culpable for horrendous acts. I know that.” She shook her head. “I suppose, in some ways, I betrayed you as well.” _

  


_ He cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her. When he broke the kiss, she saw the tears in his eyes. “Why...why couldn’t you have said that in the throne room?” _

  


_ She shook her head. “I was too lost. Too broken. Too alone,” she whispered. “I’d betrayed everything I ever stood for and I...if I looked back I was lost. I couldn’t examine it. I couldn’t! I would have crumbled,” she said softly. “But now that I’ve looked back, I know what I did. I know my part in how it all happened. I only hope you can think better of me...” _

  


_ “I love you. That’s not changed.” _

  


_ “Loving me and thinking I’m a good person are two different things. Just like loving you and being able to forgive you,” she whispered. “I love you, Jon. With my whole heart and soul. But when I think about that dagger and the realization that I was dying alone...” _

  


_ “I held you,” he said softly. “I held you as long as I could.” _

  


_ “No. There was nothing left for me in that world. The throne never would have made me happy. I sought it because...someone had to protect the people. Because I needed to find my place in the world and I was convinced that being queen would be it.” She shook her head. “But that’s never what I really wanted.” _

  


_ “What did you really want?” _

  


_ She buried her face against him, afraid to tell him. “Family,” she said softly. “A house with a red door and lemon tree outside. A man who loved me, not because I was the dragon queen, but because he saw the woman that craved love. He saw who I was beneath the hard exterior I had to put up. I wanted children.” _

  


_ He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Another way I failed you.” _

  


_ She didn’t tell him about the baby. She couldn’t voice it, her pain still too raw. “I thought you were that man.” _

  


_ “I am, Dany. I will always know your kind heart.” _

  


_ “The kind heart you stabbed a dagger through.” _

  


_ He nodded and she heard him sniff. “Aye. It was your heart that made me fall in love with you.” _

  


_ “When we were on the ship, I thought our love would be enough.” _

  


_ “So did I.” _

  


_ “Why wasn’t it?” _

  


_ He squeezed her a bit tighter. “I don’t know.” _

  


*~*

  


“I’m worried for you, Jon Snow.”

  


Tormund’s voice was low and he knew that he meant it to be a private conversation even as they both sat astride horses. He was his only friend in the world. He looked at him and frowned. “Why?”

  


“Your dreams. You’re dwelling on them.”

  


“Wouldn’t you?”

  


Tormund sighed. “Did you have another choice?”

  


He nodded. “I had one long before we got to King’s Landing. I made the wrong one,” he said sadly.

  


“Don’t live your life in regret. Life is harsh enough. Don’t allow yourself to fall into that hole.”

  


“I’m already in it.” He frowned. “I dream of her, Tormund. And sometimes it’s soft and it could almost be what it was before. And other times, it’s hard to see her and know what I did because she can’t forgive me.”

  


“She’s dead. There is no forgiveness to be found. You gotta let yourself off the hook, lad.”

  


He shook his head. “No. If I do that, then she might truly leave me.”

  


Tormund straightened and he could feel his piercing stare. “Men go mad North of the Wall. Do you want me to kill you if you get too far gone?”

  


“No,” he said softly. “I deserve it.”

  


“You don’t.”

  


Jon glanced at Tormund and shook his head. “As I said, I see her in my dreams. Let me have them.”

  


*~*

  


“My Queen, we have arrived at Eastwatch.”

  


She went above the deck and found the beaches empty. Once she was rowed ashore and the horses and priests and priestesses were with her, she stepped up the beach a bit, wanting to put her hand over the hole in her heart, the blade she could still feel embedded there. This was where she had learned the truth about Jon and what he had sacrificed for his people. A knife in the heart. Hers was a physical and emotional pain. She knew his was as well. She looked at Kinvara over her shoulder. “Is anyone still living in any of these keeps?”

  


“No, my queen.”

  


She nodded and looked up at the wall that separated the true North from everything else. “Where are Sansa’s troops?”  

  


“They have passed through, already on the other side, my queen.”

  


She took a deep breath. “Do they know where they’re going? Do they know where Jon is?”

  


“They’re following tracks. But a smaller group of the Free Folk split off. They’ve tracked those first as there are fewer. They slaughtered them all.” Kinvara allowed that to sink in and Daenerys hands trembled to think about them doing that to Jon. “We will reach Jon Snow and the others before they do.”

  


She continued to stare at the Wall, remembering how she stood at the top and waited for Jon to come back to her. Unwilling, at first, to acknowledge that he could be dead. Jorah, loyal Jorah, had come to convince her to leave. She closed her eyes and remembered her joy to see Jon on the horse coming to the keep. It was when she realized he had truly taken a knife to the heart. Her own wound blazed in her chest. He suffered betrayal just as she had. And yet, he had reaped that on her. He hung those men. She swallowed down the resentment and knew what had to be done. No longer would this wall exist to separate the people. She looked at Kinvara and the others as they waited for her orders. “Burn it down.”

  


Along with Drogon, the red priests and priestesses burnt the Wall until it crumbled as far as the eye could see. The ground shook, the very earth complaining at the impact. But they marched through. “Where is he?” Daenerys asked.

  


“Near Hardhome.”

  


She nodded and climbed onto Drogon. “Let’s greet my  _ lover _ .”


	3. Chapter 3 - Somebody That I Used To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany reunite, he learns of the lengths some people will go to hold power, and the Hand of the King is worried about what's coming for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to justwandering-neverlost for the gorgeous mood board and the beta on this chapter. I've already started chapter 4, so I hope to have that out soon. 
> 
> Another huge thanks to TheWolvenStorm for plotting with me and helping me figure out exactly where I wanted to go with this story. It's great to have friends that you can bounce ideas off of and they can tell you what works and what doesn't. 
> 
> There's an original character in here that I need for reasons.

Tormund paced his hand gripping his ax as his eyes darted around on alert. “What the fuck was that sound? What could be so loud that we could hear and feel it from here.”

 

“I don’t know,” Jon answered nervously. “But let’s assume it’s coming for us.”

 

“We don’t have the fighters for something big,” Tormund replied. Jon didn’t know why, but he knew that whatever it was had to be heading their way. They were less than a day from Hardhome, where he’d gotten his first real glimpse of the Night King. Where he had seen the true power and horror behind him. “We need to find shelter.”

 

Jon and Tormund both stopped speaking when the unmistakable sound of flapping wings filled the air, followed by a loud roar. They both stopped short at seeing Drogon, but then the sight on his back nearly caused Jon’s heart to stop beating and he almost fell to his knees in the snow, gripping Tormund’s shoulder to hold him upright. Drogon landed and roared at them all and Daenerys slowly climbed down. The sound of horses then filled the air and Dany stared at him. Had killed her. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She was alive, dressed in red, her eyes sad. But she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wondered, for a moment, if this was another dream.

 

She was staring at him, and suddenly she reached inside her robe, removed the dagger, and tossed it to his feet. He let out a ragged breath as he realized it was  _ his _ dagger, the one he’d embedded into her heart. His mouth went dry, his heart raced. He made no move to pick it up.

 

Hundreds of people in red cloaks suddenly burst onto the scene and they were left surrounded. Jon knew if this came down to a fight, he and the Free Folk would lose. They dismounted and Jon could see hilts gleaming from beneath their cloaks. One of the women came to stand beside Daenerys. She didn’t look like she belonged in this world, but then, neither did Daenerys. “Aegon Targaryen,” the exotic woman at her side spoke. “You were given the gift of life by our God. You used that gift to betray, Daenerys Targaryen. Bride of Fire.”

 

Jon was stunned, unable to take his eyes off Daenerys. She had haunted his dreams. He realized then they weren’t just dreams. They were dream walks. She had been alive all this time, confronting him, comforting him. Haunting him. Faced with her, he just wanted to continue looking at her and never stop. 

 

He realized the other woman was waiting for a response. He knew his reasons when he did it, they were forefront in his mind, and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. But now, with time to contemplate all of it, with the things she’d said in their dreams, he was trying to think of how to justify it to them. He gave the only logical excuse he could, “She killed hundreds of thousands of people.”

 

The other woman’s face remained stoic even as Daenerys looked at the ground. He knew she felt remorse, if not for their dreams then for the way she couldn’t look at him as he’d said it. She knew she was wrong and it haunted her as much as her face had been haunting him. Daenerys still didn’t say anything, didn’t launch her own defense. Instead, the priestess standing beside her spoke, and her words sent a ghostly chill down his spine. “And yet you never suspected Bran Stark of having orchestrated all of it.”

 

Jon took a step back and tilted his head as he finally looked at the other woman. “What?”

 

“Bran Stark. From the second the Night King touched him in his vision, he stopped being Brandon Stark, the brother you knew. He is the Three-Eyed Raven, a being kept beneath a weirwood tree for the good of humanity. When he was touched by the Night King, the magic released him. The Night King could enter and the Three-Eyed Raven could leave.”

 

“Why would the Night King want him dead if that were true?” Jon insisted.

 

Her eyes hardened and he felt frozen beneath her stare. “He didn’t. He would have completed what he started in the vision and melded them into one. He used his memories of his family to keep control while his sister killed the Night King, a kill that was meant for  _ you _ and your sword. By someone else doing it, not the true avatar of fire, then he has become as powerful he can become.”

 

Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw even as he listened. “The Night King is dead. Does it matter how it happened?”

 

“He’s not dead. As long as Bran Stark lives, he lives. He currently sits as the king. And you helped put him there.”

 

Jon closed his eyes, not wanting to believe any of this. Melisandre’s insistence that he was the prince who was promised was undone when Arya killed the Night King. “Priestesses have been wrong before.”

 

“Not about this. Brandon Stark used you. It was never truly you that he feared. It was Daenerys Stormborn, the Princess who was Promised. He needed to isolate Daenerys. He knew you would react badly to the news of your parentage. You were her only lifeline in the North. Made vows at a waterfall that you betrayed,” Kinvara accused. Jon looked at Daenerys, wondering how much of what she knew about them was from her sight or from Dany telling her. She never took her eyes from the priestess. “You allowed others to give you glory for  _ her _ accomplishments. You allowed your treasonous cousin to befoul her name and she betrayed you with  _ no _ recompense. Tell me, did you trouble yourself with her betrayal? Did you worry that it pushed our queen further into the abyss?” She shook her head and began walking toward him, and as some of the Free Folk stepped forward, the red guard drew their swords. The woman didn’t look phased by any of this but continued toward him. “You did not. You turned your back on a woman who gave you everything. Her life was better before you. She was beloved in Essos. The Breaker of Chains. Queen of Meereen.”

 

Jon looked at Dany who was now staring at him, only he couldn’t make out her expression. 

 

“And you committed the ultimate betrayal and killed her. Tell me, Aegon Targaryen, do you remember the pain of your own brothers stabbing you repeatedly? Do you remember how their blades felt? Do you remember the betrayal and how your blood fell from your body as your life slowly slipped away?”

 

Jon chanced a glance at Daenerys who was still looking at him. He remembered it all. The pain, the feeling of betrayal, the hurt his heart suffered. They were his men, his sworn brothers, brothers he would have died to protect and they stabbed him. Daggers in the dark. And as he looked at Daenerys, the wound over his own heart throbbed as it hadn’t in a long time. “Yes,” was his whispered answer.

 

“Then you have some idea of what your queen went through. Only it wasn’t multiple blades. It only took one. And it is a memory that haunts her dreams, as you know. She still bears the hole in her heart where your blade killed her and your babe.”

 

Jon exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Ba-babe?”

 

Kinvara shook her head. “The Starks are not the heroes of this story. Arya Stark killed over one hundred people when she slaughtered the Freys, though they were truly wicked men. Sansa has been a liar and deceiver the entire time you’ve been with her. She learned from Littlefinger and Cersei Lannister, after all. And your cousin, Brandon Stark,” she licked her lips, “knew exactly what would happen. Did you know that he urged Samwell Tarly to tell you of your parentage after Daenerys told him of his family? That Samwell had been urging Bran not to tell you because of how happy you seemed and yet Bran pushed him, in a fragile state, because he knew it would be hammered home that she was not a fit queen? That’s when your doubts started, wasn’t it? When your beloved friend told you about his rotten father and equally vile son?”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“So you understand the debt you owe to Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

“I didn’t want to,” he said with a shake of his head, tears in his eyes. “I had to. I-I told you that.”

 

“Why?” Daenerys demanded, anger and desperation lingering in her tone as she stepped forward. Her brows turned down in horror. 

 

“You were dangerous,” he said as he turned away from her.

  
“I was always dangerous,” she argued.

 

Jon remembered what Tyrion and Arya had said. She would have killed his family. Sansa wouldn’t have bent the knee and Daenerys would have responded with violence.  _ They don’t get a choice.  _ “You would have killed my family.”

 

She looked down at her hands and shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t have. Because you loved them and that mattered to me. I knew if I acted against them, you would never forgive me. Having your love and trust meant more to me than revenge.”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath and it shook him to see the anger fade away and sadness take over. “I was your family, too.” 

 

“You were convinced by Tyrion Lannister that she would never let your family live. And did he die for his treason? No. He’s the hand to the King while you were sent away,” Kinvara said calmly. “Bran Stark is a danger to this world. He will inflict pain to it, hurt people in the name of mercy. You can not be trusted, but neither can he or your sister.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Jon asked, concern in his tone.

 

Kinvara tilted her head and he felt like her eyes were burning into his. “ _ We _ are going to fix the mistake you made.”

 

“I won’t take up arms against them.”

 

“You won’t have a choice, soon. Already, Sansa has amassed an army to bring North to look for you. The group that left you a few days ago was slaughtered by her forces. She’s had men appear to be Wildlings and attack encampments, leaving a few alive to come to Winterfell to tell them that they were attacked. She’s set them up perfectly. She knows there are those who would unseat Bran to put you in his place. People who would view your act as one of mercy and vengeance for what happened in King’s Landing. With her brother as the King, with you dead or out of the way, Sansa knows if something happens to him, then she would be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” she said with a tilt of her head. 

 

“You lie,” he replied, but even he heard the lack of conviction in his own voice. The truth was, he knew what Sansa was, now. And though she had apologized for what she did, he didn’t believe she was actually sorry.

 

Kinvara shook her head, her expression that of someone who knew more, almost talking down to him. “She’s already declared herself Queen in the North. The army will be here in less than a day. They mean to extinguish your life and the life of everyone here.” She looked up as Drogon flew overhead. “It is lucky for you that, once again, Daenerys Targaryen is here to save your life.”

 

Jon looked at Tormund nervously, ignoring the last statement. If he didn’t, he would crumble before them all, knowing that she had saved his life over and over again, and instead of saving her from herself or others, he had taken her life. He could feel Daenerys looking at him and swallowed thickly, trying to determine if what they said was true. But one look at Tormund and he knew the other man believed what they were saying. His friend’s gaze was on the priestess in front of them and his voice was soft as he spoke, “How many?”

 

“Two thousand.”

 

He looked at Jon in concern, then shook his head. “There’s barely two hundred of us that can fight,” Tormund muttered.

 

Kinvara looked to Daenerys and nodded at her. “We will wait here for the army,” Daenerys said softly. “We will protect you.”

 

“And in return?” Jon questioned. He didn’t believe they were doing this out of the goodness of their hearts. His head was spinning, not sure what to believe.

 

“In return, you, Jon Snow, come with us. The rest are free to continue living as you have,” she said with a nod. “But hiding in the caves is a better idea than sitting out in the open.”

 

Tormund looked back at the mountain behind them and gave a nod to Daenerys. “Some of us can still fight,” he offered.

 

Daenerys stepped forward and shook her head. “You don’t need to fight anymore. You deserve to rest, Tormund, and your people need you to lead them. You’ve been fighting since you were a child. Let us handle this. Protect your people as you have always done, and the way to do that is to move them inside those caves. I have no issues with the Free Folk.”

 

Tormund took a deep breath and tilted his head as some of the others started gathering their things. “Dragon Queen, I remember you riding in on your dragons to save our lives when you didn’t have to. I remember the sound your dragon made when it fell out of the sky.” She gave him a small nod. He glanced at Jon, then gave a nod to Daenerys. He turned to the rest who were still watching everything unfold. “Everyone, pack up,” he ordered and began helping them, leaving Jon standing in front of her.

 

He swallowed thickly. “They weren’t just dreams were they? It was dream walking.”

 

She nodded, her gaze fixed on him. “I didn’t expect you to be there. I didn’t want you there at first.” She sighed. “I think they were a necessity for us to be here, together, today.”

 

He looked at the army with her. “What is the plan?”

 

“Amass allies. Fix what I destroyed,” she said softly and gave a nod to the priests and priestesses and they began helping the Free Folk move into the caves.

 

His throat constricted as he tried to force out the words. He needed to hear it from her. He needed confirmation. Had he really killed her  _ and _ their child? Was he even worse than he thought? “Was there...really a babe?”

 

“I didn’t know at the time. The baby died when I did,” she said softly. He couldn’t stop the tears or the sound that left him at the confirmation. He had killed his unborn child. He’d had dreams when they’d been sailing North about a child, one that looked like her. One he would hold in his arms and be something he never thought he would have: a father. It wasn’t until her that he even allowed himself to dream. And now, the knowledge that he’d killed it, he truly felt like he was going to be sick. It was bad enough knowing how he had betrayed Daenerys. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and keep the tears at bay, but he felt like he was failing at both. 

 

When he looked at her face, there was actual sympathy there. Sympathy, empathy, and pain. He couldn’t imagine her waking up to the knowledge that not only had he killed her, but he’d killed their child. He hated himself more than she ever could. Her voice was soft, almost offering him solace, but her words fell flat, not bringing him comfort at all. “We were both manipulated. But that...doesn’t make what happened easier.”

 

He managed to control his breathing as he stared at her. He needed a distraction, something to make him stop thinking about the fact that not only did he kill the woman he loved but he destroyed the life they had created together. “What's the plan?”

 

“We’ll protect the Free Folk and then we go to the Iron Islands.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Yara. She was always loyal to me. I sometimes think my life would have been easier if I had taken her up on her offer to be lovers. I suppose it’s not too late.”

 

Jon scowled, hating the thought of anyone else touching her. He felt possessive of her, that she was his and he was hers. He knew that what happened made that a near impossibility, but the thought of someone else with her, man or woman, caused his blood to run hot. “She wanted me dead.”

 

“Because she understands loyalty,” she said as she walked away. “Perhaps you could use some lessons.”

 

*~*

 

Bran had his head in his hands when Tyrion entered the room and it truly caused him to pause. He’d yet to see this sort of emotion from their new king. The rolling in his stomach and the racing of his pulse knew what it was regarding. He cleared his throat and Bran looked up at him, and he was truly shocked to see blood leaking from his eyes and down his face. He walked over to him quickly, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to him. “Your Grace, are you alright?”

 

The young king shook his head and used the cloth to wipe at the blood. “I got as close to Temple as I could. I barely managed to get out of the crows before they fell out of the sky,” he whispered. “Burned, all of them.”

 

The Hand of the King took a deep breath and prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that he was able to see the dragon. “Tell me that you saw Drogon.”

 

Bran shook his head. “No. And what’s more concerning is that the Wall has come down.”

 

Tyrion didn’t understand. Why would the Wall come down? “There was already a hole in the Wall.”

 

“Right, there was. But it’s...been destroyed completely. I can’t tell by what, but we know what put a hole in it to start with,” he said cautiously.

 

“You think Drogon took out the whole Wall?”

 

“Not just Drogon. There’s magic being used here that I can’t see through.”

 

Tyrion took a seat in front of Bran and shook his head. If Daenerys was back, they were all in grave danger. The people who had already suffered so much were in danger. “What do we do?”

 

Bran sighed. “Call the banners,” he said softly. “We have no choice. If it is Drogon and Daenerys, we need help to stop them. It...might take all of the Kingdoms to save us from her fury. It will also let us know who is loyal to us.”

 

“What about your sister?”

 

Bran was silent for a moment. “She’s already sent a ranging party to the North to find Jon. We need to find him before whoever or whatever does.”

 

“You’re still reluctant to think it is Daenerys?”

 

He was silent for a moment and Tyrion could tell he was weighing his words. “I think it’s a bad decision to jump to conclusions. We all know she died. We all know Jon killed her. That’s all we know for  _ certain _ .”

 

“We also know that Drogon left with her body.”

 

“But we don’t know where and to what purpose. There are other evils in this world besides Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

Tyrion frowned, remembering the woman who was reluctant to reopen the fire pits, the woman who proclaimed she wouldn’t be the queen of the ashes. One who went North to save a man she hardly knew but loved anyway. She turned her armies North to save the world. “She wasn’t always like that, you know? She used to save people from monsters.”

 

“Until she became the monster,” Bran’s flat effect caused an uneasy feeling in Tyrion’s stomach, He heaved a sigh. “Send out ravens. Call the banners. We need as many men as we can get.”

 

Tyrion nodded and bowed his head. “As you command, Your Grace.”

 

He climbed down from his chair and left the room, his mind moving a million miles a minute. How was this possible? What would Daenerys do if she was alive? Would she come back and finish what she started? Jon was in danger, that seemed to be certain. He hated to think that he could be ambushed. But then, as he reached Samwell’s office, he paused. “Maester Tarly?”

 

Sam poked his head from around the shelf and smiled. “Ah, Lord Tyrion. How can I help you?”

 

“We need to send out ravens calling all our banners.”

 

He looked alarmed by this and tilted his head in question. “Are we going to come under attack?”

 

“Are you a praying man?”

 

“Not as often as I should.”

 

“Now would be a good time to make that a routine,” he said as he sat in one of the chairs.

 

*~*

 

She stood alone at the mouth of one of the caves, the priests and priestesses helping to light fires and tell tales of their religion and heroes. They all gave her a wide berth and she told Kinvara to leave her. She stared out at the snowy expanse of the North as Drogon munched on something, not happy to be in the North and cold again.

 

“Is it my imagination or is he bigger?” Jon asked as he approached. 

 

She nodded. “He’s bigger. Something about the Red Temple was making him grow,” she said, her arms folded over her chest. 

 

“Do you believe all they’re telling you?” Jon asked and she felt her ire pique at the question. 

 

“What are you doubting?” she asked, not looking at him.

 

He shook his head. “I have a hard time believing that Sansa has gone so far as to frame the Free Folk so she can murder all of us.”

 

She rolled her eyes and chortled. “Please stop being so naive,” she said angrily. “Sansa lies when it’s convenient for her. She tells the truth when it’s convenient for her.” She whirled on him, feeling the blood of the dragon coursing through her veins. “When you went into battle at Winterfell against Ramsay Bolton, did she tell you that she had contacted Littlefinger or did she keep that to herself? Would your battle strategy had been different if you knew you had more calvary? How many lives were lost because she didn’t tell you? And you let her walk away from it. A lie by omission is still a lie.” She shook her head. “Did you know she was planning to kill Arya?”

 

Jon took a step back, his brow furrowed. “What?”

 

She nodded. “When Arya arrived home. Littlefinger had set them both up, played them both. She felt that Arya was a threat and she sent Brienne away because she was planning to kill your sister. It wasn’t until she talked to Bran and learned the truth about all of Littlefinger’s lies that she changed her mind.” She took a steadying breath and shook her head. “She was against me from the start. You know it as well as I do. I was a threat to  _ her _ power. Not yours.  _ Hers _ . Your Northern lords were already unhappy with you for going south, and when they heard you bent the knee...well, you saw Lady Mormont’s reaction,” she said softly. “And instead of standing by you, she chose to insult me in a room full of your bannermen.”

 

“I remember,” he hissed. “I can’t...I can’t make excuses for anything she did. And I won’t try to. I simply find it hard to believe that she would send men to kill me.”

 

“You don’t know her,” she said softly. 

 

“And you think you do?”

 

“I see her much clearer than you. Perhaps your cousin and I are cut from the same cloth, both warped and distorted by our experiences. She’ll never be a victim of a man, again, and she’ll never give others the opportunity to see you replace her or Bran,” she said angrily. “I know you don’t want it. But she will do what she has to in order to keep her claim. If you don’t believe me, let’s wait until tomorrow.”

 

He lowered his head and frowned. She wanted to be done with this conversation, but she wouldn’t be the one to walk away. “It’s...good to see you,” he said softly, and she hated to hear the hope in his voice. “I was actually concerned I was going mad.”

 

“Perhaps you are. It was so easy for you to believe the lies about me.”

 

He ran a hand through his hair and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m relieved this is the truth,” he said as he turned to face her. “I’ve wanted to say it to you so often, and I did in our dreams, but it wasn’t the same.” He stepped closer to her and though her instincts told her to back away something kept her rooted to the spot. “I’m sorry. I am truly sorry that I didn’t see what you needed before King’s Landing. I’m sorry for--”

 

“Killing me?”

 

He gave a short nod. “I’ve regretted it every day.”

 

She looked away from him, finding the pain on his face to be more than she could take. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “You were given daggers in the dark. You suffered the same thing I did. Betrayed by people you trusted.” She swiped at the tears that made their way down her face. “Yet, you did that to me,” she hissed. “How-how could you?”

 

“I truly thought it was the only choice. You weren’t listening to reason.”

 

She huffed out a breath. “Do you know what listening to other people brought me, Jon? Death.” She tightened her arms around herself, hating the cold wind that blew through the cave. “I listened to Tyrion over and over again.  _ Send Yara and Ellaria south with the ships to collect the armies from Dorne. Allow them and Highgarden to surround the city. Use the fleet from the Iron Islands to blockade the bay. _ Yara and Ellaria urged me to attack the city then, that it would fall within a day.” She shook her head. “Euron attacked them on their way to Dorne.” She took a deep breath. “ _ Send my Unsullied to Casterly Rock, sack the seat of House Lannister. _ They moved in on Highgarden and killed Olenna Tyrell.” She shook her head, feeling herself grow angrier the longer she thought about the deceit and betrayal. It should have been expected from Cersei and she was a fool to think otherwise. “ _ Meet with Cersei, bring a wight and show her because she could be reasoned with _ . I lost a dragon and she betrayed her word.  _ Fly south with my dragons and a small force on the ships I had. _ I watched Rhaegal slaughtered in front of me.” She looked down at her hands. “ _ Meet with Cersei to discuss her surrender and the return of Missandei _ . I watched my best friend lose her head,” she said, the fury of watching that still thrummed through her veins. “I listened to my Hand and the Spider and all I got in return was death and betrayal.” She turned to face him. “I know it was Tyrion who convinced you to do it. I know you didn’t want to. But you did,” she said softly. 

 

“I did. I wish I could take it back.”

 

She shook her head. “No. You can’t. Don’t wish it.”

 

He gripped her gently by the elbow. “But I do. I know what it’s like to wake up alone and afraid. I know what it’s like to greet the nothingness of death and be pulled out of it.” He lowered his head and she could see the shame on his face. “That happened to you and I’m sorry.”

 

She gave him a nod and removed her arm from his grip. “Would you have been sorry if I wasn’t standing here facing you now?”

 

He nodded and she noticed he rubbed his fingers together. She wondered if part of him touching her was to confirm that she was really there. “Yes. I love you, Dany.”

 

“Don’t call me Dany,” she insisted. “I can’t...hear that from you.”

 

If it was possible, he looked sadder. “Alright. Daenerys.”

 

“Would you prefer Aegon or Jon?”

 

He wrinkled his nose in annoyance and she nearly let a smile slip through. “Jon. You start calling me Aegon and I’m going to get confused.” He turned to look out the cave again. “Am I allowed to at least attempt to talk the men out of killing all the people here?”

 

She took a deep breath. “Still don’t believe us?”

 

“I just can’t fathom that men we fought with in the war would be so easily swayed to kill all of us.”

 

“You were at war. War breeds strange allies," she said softly and looked back at the people milling in the cave. Kinvara was watching them. She gave her a nod and she knew what she meant. “But yes, you can try. When you see for yourself that your efforts are for naught then perhaps you’ll believe me about your cousin and her treacherous heart.” 

 

“Ah, Dragon Queen,” Tormund said from behind them. “I have a treat for you,” he said, though not as jovial as she had seen him in the past. “This is the finest goats milk you can find North of the Wall.”

 

Daenerys smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but no.” She then took a deep breath, thinking she should tell them before they found out another way. “The Wall is gone.”

 

They both stared at her wide-eyed and then Tormund looked at Jon. “That’s the noise. The rumbling of the ground.”

 

She nodded. “There’s no sense in there being a wall. The Night King is gone. The Free Folk move around of their own choice. All it does is keep people separated.”

 

Whatever he was going to say was lost as they were interrupted by Kinvara. “My queen,” she said with a bow of her head, “we’ve had more visions from the Lord of Light.”

 

Jon turned to face her and Daenerys could see the skeptical look in his eye. “And what does he show you?” she asked. 

 

“The Three-Eyed Raven has ordered for the banners to be called. He doesn’t, yet, know of your resurrection, but he does know the wall has fallen.”

 

Jon looked at her then and Daenerys tilted her head. “And would we have any support?”

 

Kinvara nodded. “Yara Greyjoy in the Iron Islands, as you know, but also the new queen of Dorne, Arianne Martell. There is one other possible ally that we are watching.”

 

“I thought it was a King in Dorne,” Jon interrupted.

 

“There was. But she married him and he died suspiciously on their wedding night. She is a daughter of Oberyn Martell.”

 

“And you believe she intends to fight with us?”

 

“She intends to ask for independence. If we promise her that, she will send her troops to aid us.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “I made the agreement with Yara before we sailed to Westeros. I can honor it for her as well.”

 

“And what’s going to be the eventual plan? Allow all the kingdoms to govern themselves?”

 

She shrugged. “I believe in rewarding loyalty.”

 

“And doing what to those that disobey?”

 

She glanced at Kinvara who was still standing with them and she was glaring at Jon. She turned to the priestess and the Wildling. “Allow me to speak with him alone.”

 

Tormund walked away but Kinvara lingered. She bowed her head to Daenerys and turned to Jon. “Remember, Jon Snow, you beheaded and hanged men for disobeying your orders and betraying you,” she said before she walked away, leaving them alone once more. 

 

Dany looked up at him. “Who disobeyed?”

 

He looked back at her, his expression one of anger and annoyance. “A man named Janos Slynt,” he said as he turned away from the others. “He came from King’s Landing. He had been in charge of the city watch and threw in his lot with Alliser Thorne in the election for Lord Commander.” He took a deep breath. “Stannis warned me that there were men in the keep who would cause me problems, would probably plot against me.” He shook his head. “I ordered Slynt to go to Greyguard and be in charge of it. He argued with me and then blatantly disrespected me and my order. I took his head.”

 

She looked back out at the snow and frowned. “I’m sure that sent a message.”

 

“It did, for a while. Until I decided that I was going to let the Wildlings through the Wall. That was something that several of them couldn’t tolerate.”

 

“And they killed you,” she said softly. “Does it stop hurting? The scars?”

 

He looked at the ground and frowned. “The memory of it makes it hurt more.”

 

She nodded. “That’s true. That is when it feels like it could steal the very breath from my lungs.”

 

“I’m--”

 

“Don’t apologize, again.” She felt her heart thumping against her chest. “You’d like to think you wouldn’t do it again, but you also think you had no other choice. I wouldn’t listen. What else were you to do?” she said sarcastically.

 

“I should have talked to you, really talked to you, long before we got to King’s Landing. I wasn’t...handling all I knew well. You reaped the horror of it all.”

 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes, but you wouldn’t make a different decision.”

 

“I would have done things differently before it ever came to that. I failed you in more ways than one. I know that. We’ve discussed it. I don’t...I want to fix this.”

 

She didn’t like the hope that seemed to sprout like a blossom in her chest. She didn’t want to be taken in by his pain and his earnest attempts to make peace with her. She didn’t trust him, unsure if she ever could again, but the pain she felt from that seed of hope caused the hole in her heart to burn. She took a deep breath and frowned. She didn’t want to give him hope. Every kiss he’d placed on her lips, every time he’d pulled her close after he told her about Rhaegar and Lyanna, it all lit her with hope and every time he pulled away it was as if she was being doused with cold water. She continuously set herself up for pain, hoping he could see past it all, could still love her despite knowing they were related. She didn’t want to do that again. She didn’t want to allow him close enough to hurt her like that. 

 

“Some things can’t be fixed, Jon. No matter how much we wished them so. Sometimes what’s broken stays broken.”

 

She didn’t look at him but watched as Drogon took off into the skies. He could see him in her periphery and saw his defeated expression and even when he scrubbed his fingers over his face she knew he was wiping at tears. “Perhaps you’re right. But that doesn’t mean I will stop trying,” he said before he turned away from her and walked into the cave. 

 

Dany watched him walk away, heading deeper into the cave and found several of the priests and priestesses watching her. She noticed Dansax and Kinvara were speaking to one another, both staring into the flames of a bonfire. Dansax was Kinvara’s right hand and he believed in her just as the high priestess did. He’d proven to have visions of the flames and Kinvara often said that their two visions often filled in pieces of the others. 

 

She turned away from them and watched the sun dip below the skyline. Tomorrow, they would face the horrors of what Sansa was going to do. She only hoped Jon didn’t do something stupid in the process.

 

*~*

 

_ He stood in the throne room of Dragonstone, staring at the seat of his ancestors. She heaved a deep sigh from behind him as she looked around. He couldn’t help but take in his fill. Seeing her alive today had been a blessing, one he didn’t know he could ever have. He loved her. Gods, how he loved her. And he’d betrayed her. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought it was the only option, but he knew that he'd made mistakes before that. He didn’t listen when she’d said that telling people would be her doom. He didn’t think that his family could betray him. _

 

_ “I suppose it was too much to hope that we would be able to simply talk in person and not have to endure this anymore,” she said softly. _

 

_ He shook his head. “Perhaps this is the best way for us to communicate. I failed miserably at it in our world.” _

 

_ “You were never much of a talker,” she said softly. “But when you did speak, I usually listened.” _

 

_ “Until you didn’t.” _

 

_ “Until I felt like you couldn’t possibly understand what was happening. You had cautioned me, months before, to not fly to the Red Keep and burn it down. That it would make me like everyone else. I suppose I proved I was worse than everyone else,” she said softly. “Your lack of faith in me was warranted.” _

 

_ He shook his head. “When I got to Dragonstone after Missandei...I was thrown off course by Varys. I...wasn’t used to the idea of us being together due to you being my aunt--” _

 

_ “You still expressed that you loved me. You still tried to hold me and you couldn’t,” she said softly. “Was it simply that or did you think I was going mad?” _

 

_ “I didn’t think you were going mad. I thought you were in pain and I was powerless to help you. I wanted so badly to be able to take it all back, to fix everything, and I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to reconcile that my whole life had been a lie and the woman I loved most in the world was related to me.” _

 

_ “It’s not as if we were brother and sister,” she muttered. _

 

_ “No. And we weren’t raised to think of one another as family, either. But it still...bothered me. I started thinking about Rhaegar and if he would disapprove. My mother. Ned Stark. I was just lost in it all, Dany. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it.” _

 

_ She lowered her head and frowned. “Simply talking to me at all would have worked. I told you about my fears. I told you that I worried about what would happen. You saw my grief, Jon. And you...let me suffer through it alone.” _

 

_ “That was wrong and I hate it. I wish I could go back and fix it. I wish I could. You must know that,” he said taking both of her hands. “I would give anything to have you back to how you were before the Battle at Winterfell. To go back to that waterfall and stay there with you and never return to anything else,” he whispered. “Tell me you know that.” _

 

_ “Part of me does. The part that loved you. The part that decided to put off my war with Cersei and go North. The part of me that...never wanted to leave the waterfall. I wanted that so much, Jon. I wanted you to love me enough. To fight for me as I fought for you. But when I needed you, you weren’t there.” _

 

_ He pressed his forehead against hers, his hands coming up to her face. “I failed you. I know that. I want nothing more than to change it. I hope you know I would." _

 

_ She nodded. “I believe you. But this road we’re on, Jon, isn’t going to be an easy one. Your family stands at the end. Your sister. Your brother. They’re going let you down, betray you more than they already have.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow, you’ll see. I wish I could spare you from it. You’ve already felt betrayal more than anyone should...” _

 

_ “I’m going to at least try to talk them out of it, first. You promised I could have that chance.” _

 

_ She nodded. “And you will have it.” She pulled away from him and looked around at the room. “When you first came to see me, why wouldn’t you allow Davos to tell me about giving your life for your people?” _

 

_ “I didn’t know how to explain it.” _

 

_ “It would have gone a lot further to make me believe you about the Night King. If you were telling the truth about that, I would have to assume you were telling the truth about everything else.” _

 

_ “Only you didn’t believe me about everything else. I realize I didn’t approach it the right way.” _

 

_ She shook her head and smirked. “No, calling me a child was the wrong approach.” _

 

_ “I was frustrated.” _

 

_ “Oh, were you? Imagine how I felt. The King in the North comes down to my keep and not only tells me he needs my help and I need him, but I’m a child complaining that the rules aren’t fair. You call into question the legitimacy of my claim to the throne. You wouldn’t bend the knee.” She shook her head. “You truly confused me. I didn’t understand how someone who claimed he needed my help could be so clueless as to how it would work.” _

 

_ He took a deep breath. “I thought I had an obligation to see through the task I had set, which was to get you to direct your armies and attention North. I didn’t come to bend the knee.” _

 

_ “Even though you knew that’s what I wanted.” _

 

_ He shrugged. “I’m not very good at diplomacy. I was killed by my own men, remember.” _

 

_ She took the steps up to the throne but didn’t sit on it. She turned to him and gestured to it. “Come. Sit.” _

 

_ He shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “I still don’t want to rule. That’s not changed.” _

 

_ “I wasn’t telling you to rule, Jon. I’m telling you to sit in the seat where your father once sat. Our ancestors,” she said softly. He didn’t move and she exhaled a frustrated breath. “So, us being related is only an issue when it comes to whether or not you can comfort me. You don’t want to be a Targaryen at any other time?” _

 

_ “I never said that,” he said as he advanced toward her. “That’s your throne. It was always meant to be your throne.” _

 

_ “Why this one and not King’s Landing?” _

 

_ "You killed thousands of innocent people--” _

 

_ She shook her head and put a hand on his arm to silence him. “I mean, why was I allowed to have this one? The seat of the Targaryens? Why was this more preferable than King’s Landing?” She looked up at the high ceilings. “Before all I lost...I would have done anything to protect the people.” _

 

_ He nodded and took her hand. “I know that.” _

 

_ “Kinvara thinks I didn’t do it alone. That there was a presence with me that day in King’s Landing,” she whispered. “I remember hearing the bells, looking at King’s Landing, and thinking, I’m going to burn her out of that keep. She won’t get away with it.” She shook her head. “And then there was...this feeling, like the soldiers would see me dead before I took the city. They wouldn’t rest until I died because they were loyal to the Lannisters. That the people were complicit in her deceit and when I flew off, I was going for the Red Keep, but...the next second the streets were on fire,” she said softly. “I didn’t...look down at them.” _

 

_ He looked up at her to find tears rolling down her face. She swallowed thickly. He could see that it took nearly everything she had to remain upright. “How did I become a monster?” _

 

_ He pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. His arms held her tight, his head resting against hers. “I don’t think you’re a monster.” _

 

_ “You killed me. I think that says all it needs to say.” _

 

_ He shook his head as he squeezed her tighter. “I don’t think you’re a monster, Dany. I think you did something that even you regret and you would take it back if you could. That’s not a monster.” _

 

_ *~* _

 

Jon decided he would stand out in the snow, in front of the caves to greet the force that was coming for them. He still hoped the priests and priestesses were mistaken. He didn’t want to believe that Sansa would be capable of doing what they accused her of doing. He was warned by Dansax that the soldiers would try to lure him into a false sense of security and to beware of arrows. Dany circling above the clouds on Drogon. 

 

He stopped as he heard the unmistakable sound of hooves and soon he saw them. His heart stopped to see the Stark direwolf on the banners. They drew to a stop in front of him and he held up a hand to them in salute. He noticed them looking around and that worried him. “State your name,” the leader of the company commanded.

 

“Jon Snow. My sister Sansa is your queen.”

 

The man looked around, a scowl on his face. “Where are the Wildlings you’re traveling with?”

 

“I left them a few days ago. Is Sansa alright?”

 

“The queen has sent us after you.”

 

Jon tilted his head, feeling a lump in his throat. He didn’t want them to be right.  _ Please don’t let them be right _ . “For what purpose.”

 

“Word of your sister, Arya.”

 

“Arya?” he asked as he stepped forward then stopped as several of them drew crossbows. “What of my sister? Has Sansa received word from her?” The man looked at those with a crossbow and they lowered them. But he still felt uneasy as he looked at their leader. None of the men actually put their weapons away, but just lowered them in front of him. It was a disgusting realization that swept over him as he realized that Dany and Kinvara had been right.  “Or is this a trick to get me to let my guard down so you can kill me?”

 

The leader sat back in his saddle a bit, his face resigned. “The word of your sister, Arya, is that she won’t mourn you.”

 

He took an arrow to the shoulder and one to his calf. The pain ricocheted through his body, and he was nearly sick to realize that he was betrayed, truly betrayed by Sansa. She sought to kill him. He heard the crunch of boots on the ground, stalking toward him. “Your sister also told me to tell you that Winter has Come for House Targaryen,” a man said as he raised his sword. Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw, withdrew it and shoved it through the man’s stomach all the way through his back. The sudden screech of Drogon overhead drew the attention of the other men. He let the soldier in front of him drop as the others began to run away.

 

The fire melted the snow around Jon, and he felt like it had even singed him. He was quickly grabbed up by Dansax and Tormund and was being drug back to the safety of the cave. Kinvara walked past him and he ordered them to stop. He watched her hold her hand out toward the sky and close her fist, each man and horse that had remained to run away after Drogon suddenly burst into fire. None of them were left. The snow was gone and behind it lay burnt ground. Drogon swooped down to land and rushed towards Jon, growling in his face as he had back at Dragonstone all those months ago. But now, there was true anger behind it. He abruptly turned his head from him and to Daenerys who was climbing down from his hide. 

 

“Get him into the cave,” she ordered as she and Kinvara came forward. Dansax and Tormund helped him in and took him to the tent he’d set up for himself. 

 

His cloak was removed and his gambeson and tunic had to be cut off. His pant leg was cut to the knee so they could look at both wounds. It was too much blood and he knew it. An uneasiness settled over him, nearly choking him as he saw the concern on their faces. Kinvara knelt beside him and looked at Tormund. “We’ll need bandages.”

 

Tormund left them and started ordering for bandages to be cut. Dany, however, stayed at his side. Dansax removed the scabbard for his belt and held it out for him to bite down on. He took the leather between his teeth as the arrow was removed from his shoulder. He felt a hand take his and found that it was Dany, her other hand stroking over his knuckles. The man removed his own belt and handed it to Kinvara. She used the belt around his thigh like a tourniquet. 

 

The man held it taut as she waited only a few seconds, then removed the arrow. He screamed through the belt. Kinvara began chanting in another language and Tormund entered again, and she immediately took a piece of cloth from him and held it over the wound in his leg. She had her eyes closed, and he noticed that Dany had paled. She understood what she was saying and her hands holding his tightened. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he felt weaker as time went on, until he couldn’t hold his head up any longer. He felt himself drifting to sleep and became all too aware that it felt like he was dying. 

 

As the awareness drifted through him, he released Dany’s hand and stroked over her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.

 

Tears slid down her face. “Don’t you dare die, Jon Snow.”

 

He closed his eyes and felt himself drift away, to death or sleep, he didn’t know. He only knew that his sister had done this, she had betrayed him, and the woman he’d betrayed was the one sitting beside him, holding his hand.

 

*~*

 

Kinvara heaved a sigh and gave her a nod. “The wound is closed, my queen.”

 

Daenerys felt her body sag in relief and Dansax gave a nod, telling her that one in his shoulder had closed as well. “He’s not going to die?”

 

Kinvara shrugged. “You could kill him as he lays here, but I wouldn’t advise it,” she said as she dropped the bloody cloth beside her. She looked at Tormund. “He’ll need meat to eat. There are creatures in the wood to the east, a family of white deer. You should be able to find them.”

 

Tormund nodded. “Don’t let him die while I’m gone.”

 

“He’s not going to die. But the meat will help his blood to replenish much faster.”

 

He gave a nod and left. Dany stoked her fingers over Jon's cheek and looked at Kinvara. “He is going to live, isn’t he?”

 

She nodded. “Our Lord willed it so,” she answered. “Jon Snow is important to all of this, my queen. You must remember that.”

 

Dany swallowed the lump in her throat as she sat down fully beside him, holding his hand in her lap. “Just because someone feels that way doesn’t mean their life is spared.”

 

Kinvara put a hand on her shoulder. “He is meant to be yours, my queen. Death cannot stop that. I had hoped you had already learned that lesson.”

 

Daenerys whipped her head to look at the woman, narrowing her eyes. “I paid the price. I know what death brings.”

 

“Then you must also believe that your resurrection has a purpose as well. You are meant to be together. No matter how...problematic I might find it.”

 

“Problematic?”

 

“Yes, my queen,” she said softly. “He killed you. And though our Lord deems you to be the same side of the coin, I know what it costs you to be near him, how it pains you. I do not wish that for you.”

 

Daenerys swallowed the lump in her throat. “And can you not see if I will be able to move on?”

 

“All I know is that he is the groom of fire and you are the bride. Your union is important for the world to survive. To bring life even past death.”

 

“I wish I had faith in that.”

 

Kinvara placed a hand on her shoulder. “You must simply live, my queen. Allow us to keep the faith.”

 

Dany turned from her and looked at Jon. “You’re certain he’s alright?”

 

“Yes. He’s simply passed out from the pain and loss of blood.”

 

She gave a nod. “Leave us.”

 

Kinvara left the tent and Daenerys rubbed her fingers over the healed wound in his shoulder. This magic was something she couldn’t quite comprehend. He lay there, breathing, his eyes closed, mouth slightly open, and she remembered nights of sitting and watching him sleep. She couldn’t believe how lucky she had been to meet a man like him. How honorable and sincere he was. 

 

She didn’t know which of them had changed more. Was she a monster? Was he dishonorable? Were they both fools? She took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m going to try to be better,” she said softly. “For myself. I can’t ever contemplate anything more between us until I can...be someone greater than a monster.”

 

Her fingers brushed over his jaw, wishing he would wake up and tell her himself that he was fine. Ghost came into the tent and nudged him with his snout, then laid beside him. The poor wolf had been hurt after the Battle of Winterfell. Ghost nudged his nose beneath Jon’s other hand and she smiled. She knew the connection between the direwolf and Jon was as strong as the one between her and Drogon. 

 

Her attention turned back to the man that still held a piece of her heart. She loved him. It wasn’t even a question for her. But she didn’t trust him, not completely, and though he said he loved her, and she believed him, she didn’t know if he loved her enough for the rest of what they would have to do.

 

*~*

 

He woke up feeling disoriented and weak. Almost a feeling of floating as he slowly lifted his head and found Ghost licking at his hand then turned and saw Dany, on her own bedroll beside him, her hand held in his. He shivered in the cold and Ghost moved closer to him as if he sensed it. He looked at her, face turned down in a scowl as she slept, her fingers even tightened in his grasp. She suddenly sat up, clutching her chest, taking great breaths into her lungs. It was with horror he realized that tears were sliding down her face as she had released her hold on him and buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

 

He wouldn’t let her suffer alone. Not again. Not if he could comfort her. He pushed himself up and pulled her toward him and rocked her as she cried. He knew without having to experience it with her what she dreamed. When he was brought back, he had them all the time. Waking up from the darkness– cold, alone, naked, and afraid. He stroked his hand over her hair and pulled her fur to wrap around her. She was always so warm, like she was actual fire made flesh. He supposed that she was, in a way. 

 

Her tears eventually stopped, but she didn’t move out of his arms, instead, they traced over a pale mark in his shoulder. It had already healed over. His leg, too. It had to be the magic of the priestess. She slowly sat up to look at him, and she gave him a small smile. “You’re awake.”

 

“I almost died again, didn’t I?”

 

She shook her head. “Almost. Kinvara and Dansax saved you.”

 

He took a deep breath. “You once told me you didn’t believe in Gods, myths, or legends. I’m seriously beginning to rethink my own stance on that,” he whispered.

 

She nodded. “I think after what we both experienced that would actually be the only logical conclusion. But I think we’ve both found that sometimes logic isn’t...logical.”

 

He took both of her hands in his and sighed. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry for doubting you. Doubting them. I only know that prophecies can be difficult things to decipher.”

 

“Melisandre?” she said softly and Jon nodded. “She’s the one that told me to summon you to Dragonstone. Kinvara said that at the end her visions had confused her. She wasn’t seeing things clearly. Perhaps she was being used, as well.” 

 

They were both silent and he shivered again. She reached for one of the furs that had been put over his bedroll and wrapped it around his shoulders. He tried to find the words to tell her he believed her, to let her know he was on her side. “You were right about Sansa.”

 

“I almost wish I hadn’t been,” she said softly. “If I wasn’t right, then I could have abandoned all of this and left Westeros forever. But now that I know Sansa can’t be trusted, that Bran is probably the Night King, I think it’s time you and I face what has to be done.”

 

He took a deep breath. “If for no other reason than to keep the Free Folk safe.”

 

She nodded. “Tormund has come to check on you a few times. Told me he’d kill you if you decided to die,” she said with a smile.

 

“I believe him,” he said, smiling back. 

 

“He offered again to come fight with us, but I told him he needed to stay with his people. Find a place for them to live and thrive.”

 

“That’s the right choice. They don’t need to be pulled into another war.”

 

“No, they don’t. But you realize what we’re going to do, don’t you? We’re going to go after Sansa. We’re going to go after Bran.”

 

He nodded. “I know. I don’t like it, but it won’t be the first time I have to do something I don’t like in order to save lives.”

 

She stiffened and pulled farther away from him and he knew how she took it. She stood, the fur still around her. “I’ll let you get some more rest,” she said as she left him alone. He wanted to scream at himself for being so stupid. They were actually having a meaningful conversation, talking through things while they were awake and he ruined it because he reminded her that he’d killed her because he didn’t think he had another choice. 

 

He lay back on his bedroll, Ghost whimpering beside him and he sighed, wanting to kick himself. He ruined it, the moment they were having, and he didn’t know when he would get another opportunity to talk to her like they had been without it taking place in a dream. Why was it easier there? He closed his eyes and wished he still had the heat of her body pressed against his. 

 

*~*

 

“I wish you didn’t have to go, Jon Snow,” Tormund said in a low growl.

 

He nodded. “I know. I wish I didn’t have to go either.”

 

He looked over at Daenerys who was climbing onto Drogon. He felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder and he met the hard stare of his friend. “I know what she did in that city. You know what you did and you were punishing yourself for it. But she came here and she saved our lives and she didn’t have to. That speaks to me about her feelings for you.”

 

“They say they need me.”

 

Tormund rolled his eyes. “Boy, it wasn’t because of some mission that she stayed by your side at night. It wasn’t a mission that had her holding your hand and crying beside you. Keep that in mind when you go off and do whatever fool thing they’re going to have you do.”

 

“I will.”

 

“I’ll come with you if you want.”

 

He shook his head. “No. You belong here, taking care of your people.”

 

“What about you?”

 

He looked over at Daenerys as Kinvara spoke to her. “I think that I might belong with her.”

 

“Maybe that’s why you’ve always been such a miserable little crow.”

 

Jon smiled. “Take care,” he said as he stepped forward and hugged him.

 

“You too, Jon Snow.” Tormund released him and they both looked at Ghost. “What about him?”

 

“He’s going to meet us South. I’m not leaving him, again.”

 

“If your brother is a warg, you sure you want to take him?”

 

Jon sighed. “Why warg Ghost when there’s a giant dragon you can use to inflict damage?”

 

“Alright. You know you’re always welcome with us. The Dragon Queen, too.”

 

“I’ll make sure to tell her,” he said as he walked away and mounted the horse that was being held for him. 

 

The red army moved away from the Free Folk and towards the West. Dansax rode beside him, Kinvara ahead of them. “How are we to get the Iron Islands?” Jon asked.

 

“We already sent a messenger to Yara at the Iron Islands that we would be coming and to send an armada.”

 

“Does she know Daenerys is alive?”

 

“No. But she knows that an old friend is coming to the Iron Islands.”

 

Jon frowned. “She hasn’t guessed?”

 

“She knows that the king can see everything. She’s trying not to think about it or say anything out loud. Your ally in the Iron Islands is much more cunning than people give her credit. It will be their downfall.”

 

“What about the queen in Dorne?”

 

Dansax gave a slight nod. “She’s a bastard of Oberyn Martell. When the Prince took power, he was looking for a wife to help solidify his claim. Arianne offered herself and her army. She took him as her husband and he died on their wedding night.”

 

“Did she kill him?”

 

He looked at Jon. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

 

He shook his head. “I have a feeling I’m better off not knowing.” He watched Drogon fly above them. “What else don’t I know?”

 

“You know that your brother has called the banners.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Gendry Baratheon in the Storm Land’s wants to know why. Questioning the king will be seen as being hostile toward the crown. He will attempt to eliminate him and his councilor, Ser Davos Seaworth.”

 

“Davos? Why?”

 

“Because, besides you and our queen, Gendry has a claim to the throne. Any claim must be eradicated.”

 

“Gendry is a good man.”

 

Dansax turned to look ahead. “Good men and women can become villains with the right provocation," he said, his words and voice haunting Jon.

 

“Did Bran warg Drogon in King’s Landing?”

 

He shook his head. “No. He manipulated the queen. He used her tender emotional state to get into her head.”

 

“You know this for certain?”

 

Dansax looked at him, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

 

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling an uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath and tried to steer the topic back to the plan. “Would Gendry join us?”

 

“I don’t think he’ll have much of a choice once he’s named as an enemy of the crown.”

 

“What about Sansa?”

 

“She won’t learn of her army’s defeat until after we have arrived back in Westeros and begun marching for her.”

 

He looked up at Daenerys again. “And will she be prepared for Drogon?”

 

“It doesn’t matter if she is. That dragon with a rider will be nearly impossible to hit.”

 

“You said  _ nearly _ .”

 

Dansax nodded. “Her bond with Drogon has only grown since her resurrection. There is no hope of warging the dragon. But, if our queen continues to lament what happened to her, all she’s lost, your betrayal, she could remain in a state where he could take her, again. Though, this time she has something she didn’t have last time.”

 

“The red army?”

 

“Well, that is one thing, yes. But she has the trust of the man she loves. She lost that along the way last time.”

 

“I do trust her. I hate what she did...”

 

“It wasn’t all her.”

 

“Even she admits that some of it was.”

 

“But take heart in the fact that she regrets it, she hates it as you do. She regrets that it caused you to kill her. Those are all things that lead me to believe that she’s exactly what the world needs to bring it back from the destruction she caused.”

 

“She caused,” he said softly.

 

He took a deep breath. “You can’t change it any more than she can. Just like she can’t change your betrayal. She knows you felt like you had no choice. That doesn’t mean she likes it.”

 

“That makes two of us.”

 

“Take heart, Jon Snow. She still loves you. Most people would have already killed you whether or not we needed you.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. I don’t think either of you will feel better until you are united again.”

 

“We’re united now.”

 

“As lovers, Jon Snow. But she doesn’t trust you enough to let you that close. It will take time and effort on your part.”

 

“Does she want me to try?”

 

He nodded. “She does. She told you to fight for her. There’s more than one way to fight.”

 

Jon sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, unsure if she would want him to do that. But he thought about how she had let him hold her after her nightmare, staying close to him even after she had calmed down. He had to make her realized that he wasn’t going to betray her again. He had to make her realize that, this time, he was truly on her side and no one would be able to convince him otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if the red priests and priestesses have the power to heal wounds like they did in this chapter, but hey, creative license. She's the head priestess. I gave her that power and the one where she destroyed the other soldiers. Establishing her power beyond just being able to read prophecy in the flames. Ghost will be in the story again in the future. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I know that I probably could have postponed their reunion a little, but the truth is I didn't want to. I needed them together. They will continue to dream walk and I haven't revealed if that's a work of the red priestess or because of their own connection. I will tell you that it will be discussed later. 
> 
> Jon and Dany are neither one followers of R'hllor, so don't go losing your heads about that. It was a joke for Jon to lessen the tension as much as anything. 
> 
> A comment made me realize that I forgot to add this to the notes: I made Arianne Oberyn’s daughter since she wasn’t introduced in the TV show and it was said Oberyn had several daughters. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4 - We Meet Again My Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon, Dany, and Co set sail for the Iron Islands. Jon and Daenerys still deal with the aftermath of what they both did and it's a difficult road. Dany reunites with one of the few people still loyal to her and her ally does not take kindly to Jon's presence. And an unforeseen threat nearly costs Daenerys her life. The new lord of Storm's End contemplates how best to go about protecting his people while trying not to make waves with the crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to answer a few questions:  
> 1) I have not yet decided if Arya will appear in this fic. The hard part is that this is directly putting Jon in conflict with her siblings that she loves. I don't know how she would react to that or to Daenerys being alive. So, for right now, she's still sailing West.  
> 2) To be honest, I'm writing this fic for me to help me cope with the ending of Season 8.  
> 3) I realize that a lot of people take issue with the thought that Daenerys could ever forgive him, but forgiveness is more than just letting go of something someone did to you. It's about more than that and more than that person. You don't forgive someone simply because they've earned it, you do it as much for yourself as you do for that person. And I realize trust is earned. They talk about that here.  
> 4) If you don't like it, please don't read it. I start reading stuff all the time and simply hit the back button without ever giving that person hell. Keep in mind, you don' t know what a person is going through. Writing could be their escape and they post it because it might make someone else feel better.  
> 5) **POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE AGAINST A WOMAN**
> 
> Thank you to justwandering-neverlost and TheWolvenStorm for betaing this chapter and for giving me the pick-me-up I needed. After the last chapter, I was really doubting myself and my ability to pull this story off. They both reminded me why I was writing it in the first place and why I should continue. The support of my friends means more to me than I can ever accurately express. Thank you both so much.
> 
> And thanks to justwandering-neverlost for the gorgeous mood board.

 

The ships were waiting for them and their horses. They had filled them up, as many people as they could. The rest would meet them at what used to be Castle Black. Kinvara had insisted that Jon and Daenerys be on the same ship, though Dany had tried to convince her to let her ride on Drogon to the Iron Islands. Instead, she was told to keep Drogon flying overhead. An unnatural wind had kicked up once everyone was on board, the smell of smoke and sulfur filling the air with it. She knew the red priests could make the boats move quicker with their magic. It’s why they had been able to move from Volantis to the North so quickly. She still didn’t care for the shiver that ran down her spine when it took effect and moved the sails.

 

People made themselves scarce, leaving the two of them alone in the main galley. She felt the awkwardness settle around them like humid days in Meereen. The silence was almost worse. But it wasn’t an overly large ship and the idea of holing herself away in her room held no appeal considering they would be on this ship for nearly a week. She knew that she would have to get used to the idea of being in the same room even being alone with him. But the silence was too much.

 

“Have you ever seen the Iron Islands?” she asked as she stared out the large window at the back of the ship.

 

He cleared his throat. “No. Theon used to talk about them all the time. It’s three pillars connected with bridges surrounded by water.”

 

She sighed. “What was your relationship with him like?”

 

“Strained," he admitted. "Theon always treated me like I didn’t belong. I suppose I did the same to him.”

 

“Because he thought you were Ned Stark’s bastard or because he was jealous of your standing with the family?”

 

“Probably both. But Catelyn always treated him better than me. ” He took a deep breath and blew it out wearily, the broody expression on his face was so him, so very _Jon_. “I never got to meet Yara. Theon said she was the only one who tried to save him when he was being held captive by Ramsay. What’s she like?”

 

“Brash. Courageous. Intelligent,” she offered, her eyes drifting from the sea to him and his infuriatingly perfect profile.

 

She could see the jealousy clearly marked on his face, brows heavy, plump mouth pinched into a hard line. She’d already told him once about how she should've taken Yara up on becoming lovers to save herself from heartache. She knew he was trying to determine if she meant her glowing judgment of Yara, or if she was just trying to rile him up.

 

“Did she really solicit you?” he finally grunted.

 

Daenerys gave a short laugh and nodded. “In my throne room in Meereen. She told me that Euron was coming with a request for marriage. I asked if she was going to issue marriage demands. She said ‘ _I don’t make demands, but I’m up for anything really'_. I admired her confidence.”

 

“That all you admired?” he asked softly, trying to appear unaffected.

 

She slowly turned to look at him full on and smirked. She was going to ask him, rub a bit of salt in the wound.  “Are you jealous?”

 

“Yes,” he admitted quickly, surprising her. “She was...still loyal to you in front of that council. In the end, even when we were alone, I wasn’t.”

 

“You’re making a mighty fine case for me to choose Yara as my queen,” she said with a tilt of her head. “That would certainly shock people, wouldn’t it?”

 

He narrowed his eyes and took a step toward her. “Are you trying to _make_ me jealous?”

 

She shrugged. “Am I? Or am I simply looking for a more trustworthy option?”

 

“I will never betray you again, my queen.”

 

She shook her head, the declaration only bringing her pain. “Don’t. Don’t call me your queen. I stopped being that when you killed me,” she said in a long exhale. She turned back to stare out at the sea. “Are we simply fooling ourselves into thinking that there is a possible future here?”

 

He shifted closer then thought better of it. “Anything is possible.”

 

“Is it?”

 

She caught his nod from the corner of her eye. “Do you know what I wished for before I died? To fight the army of the dead?”

 

“No.”

 

“I wished for a dragon, or _three_. I wished for more armies to help us.” He took a deep breath, a nervous one she could tell. Jon had never been good at voicing his feelings despite the swirl of them she knew laid just under his surface. “I wished for you before I even knew you were a possibility,” he whispered.

 

“You wanted my dragons and my armies,” she reminded him. It was difficult for her to hear that, once again, a man only saw her for what she could do for him, no real worth put on her person other than that. And the second she stopped being useful, she was cast aside. “I wasn’t necessarily part of that dream.”

 

He dared to step closer, ducked his head, urging her to meet his gaze. She did. “When I met you, I wanted you.” He shook his head, and she could see him getting lost in the memory, his eyes going a bit glassy, lips tugging into a small smile. “I’d never met anyone like you. You were so confident and you had every right to be. Your armies, your dragons… everything you had survived. You were a force… and I was captivated. Even when you frustrated me to the edge of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

 

She was silent for a moment, allowing all he said to sink in. She looked back out the window, the shore growing more and more distant as the ships sailed through the seas. She thought about her first impressions of him, of the one thing stuck clearly in her mind. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what Davos said. _A knife in the heart for his people._ ” She shook her head. “I can’t explain why that stuck with me and that… I wanted it to be true to an extent.”

 

“Why?” he questioned.

 

“Magic," she told him, looking into his dark eyes once more. "I could walk through fire, I brought dragons back, I could ride a dragon… I was hoping there was someone else like me. Someone else with magic in their blood.” She smiled softly. “Little did I know that it flowed through your veins.”

 

“Not before I died.”

 

“That’s not true. You’ve always had Targaryen blood. There’s something about you, Jon Snow, that makes people want to follow you. _I put my trust in a stranger_ ,” she reminded quietly.

 

He heaved a sigh. “I finally admitted it to myself when I was laying in that bed after the wight hunt that I was completely in love with you. Waking up to find you sitting at my bedside… you looked like an ethereal beauty from the songs. And you were sitting beside _me_. My savior. I was… gone,” he admitted, his smile small but sweet. “I saw your good heart. I didn’t thank you for all you did. You turned away from a battle you could easily win and came North where there was no certainty that any of us would live. No matter what happens, I want you to know that it is truly a debt I can’t repay. I can never thank you enough. You made sure everyone lived. You saved my life more times than I can count.”

 

She turned away, needing a moment before glancing back to him. “I realized it before that,” she said, her voice soft. The memory of that moment had all her reasons for loving him washing through her like waves. What it felt like to be lost with him, in him. “I saw you fall into the water, and I… I couldn’t let you go. I stood in that nest atop The Wall and waited. I don’t know why. Jorah even told me it was time to go and I couldn’t admit it to myself. I knew I would never find peace again if you didn’t come back. And when they sounded that horn and I saw you, my heart felt as if it would beat out of my chest.” She shook her head, the memories painful still. “I remember what that sort of hope feels like.” She took a moment, her heart racing which caused a sudden pain in her chest. “I don’t feel it anymore.”

 

Her admission seemed to catch him off guard because the look on his face was one of confusion and horror. “Because you can’t feel it or because I killed it?”

 

She shrugged. “Both. Neither. I don’t know,” she said finally. “I know what I did. I live with it. The deaths of so many hangs over me... lives I can never atone for. Perhaps my death was a good thing. I don’t… know that I could have stopped. It felt like a means to an end. If they wouldn’t let me be part of their world, then I would remake it.”

 

She swiped at the tears in her eyes, that hopeless feeling churning her stomach. It was all right there, beckoning for her to follow it. To let herself sink into despair. “I didn’t realize how lost I was. Even in the throne room. I was clinging to this idea that I could remake the world. Do it better. Have all people living together, under my rule, to not let them experience cruelty and failing to realize I had brought them all the things I hated. Cruelty. Injustice. Tyranny. Murder.” She shook her head, shame filling her up, almost choking her. “I was justifying it. I was a dragon. I was beyond their pettiness. Above it. I could do it better, take care of the people since they knew my power. And I didn’t care if they feared me. Aegon Targaryen ruled with fear.” She glanced at him, _Aegon Targaryen_ , sixth of his name, and felt the bitterness of it in her chest, which cause another ache. She hated this. She hated feeling anger at knowing people would have accepted his rule without a second glance at her. He would have been granted everything she had worked for her entire life simply because of his name. They would trust him more, love him more because he was a man. It caused her already sore heart to thump wildly in her chest and she took deep breaths to slow it down and rein in her emotions.

 

She couldn’t look at him, not wanting to see more disappointment on his face. She stared out at the water, wanting to get lost in it, to end the emptiness she felt in her heart. She rubbed her fingers over the wound, not even the pain bringing her anything more than a hollowness. Was this how it was always going to feel? Would she ever find peace? “Does the pain go away?” she asked finally.

 

“I wish I could tell you it does, but I can't. It still hurts,” he answered as he moved away from her and sat at the table. “Wine?”

 

“No. I’m not thirsty, hungry, or tired… I feel nothing.”

 

He blew out another heavy breath. “I think that’s normal,” he said and she turned to watch him drain his cup. “I think the reason we feel that way is because we were,” he paused and she could almost hear him thinking of what to say, a look of distaste came over his face as he finally uttered found the word he wanted, even if he found it troublesome, “murdered and brought back to life. It all feels unnatural.”

 

“When does it feel normal again?”

 

“I haven’t felt normal since...” he answered softly. “There’s this… darker piece I have to hold back.”

 

“I don’t know that I want to see what darker means for me,” she said as she joined him at the table. “The pain doesn’t make me feel any better. I can feel it, and anger… disappointment, sadness… Is joy even a possibility?”

 

He found her eyes and gave her the smallest hint of a smile. “Yes.” She turned away from his gaze, unable to let hope grow any further in her chest.

 

Jon cleared his throat, feeling the weight of the extended silence hanging in the air. He knew that her being here with him was a gift he didn’t deserve. He hoped that if he kept talking, she would stay. Small talk seemed to be the easiest and safest way to communicate. “So, we're going to the Iron Islands, then what?”

 

“Winterfell, I suppose.”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

She shook her head. “No.”

 

“You don’t know what their plans are?”

 

She huffed out an irritated breath. “Take out Sansa and Bran. I haven’t asked for the details.”

 

“Why not?”

 

She examined him, watching as he sat waiting for her response. His dark eyes raking over her face, taking all of her in. She could still see the love in the dark depths and it worried her. She felt stirrings for him that went beyond anger, hurt, and betrayal. Seeing him injured had caused her such fear. She could've lost him and that angered her. Why should she care? She wanted to feel nothing but knew that wasn’t possible. Try as she might, she still felt deeply for him, only wanted him safe, even if she wanted him to be haunted by what he did.

 

“I’m afraid,” she finally confessed.

 

He furrowed his brows at her. “Afraid?”

 

She stared at the wood grain in the table, hoping if she focused on that and not on what she was going to say it would make it easier. “You heard them. Bran was able to manipulate my emotions. And when I think of the two of them I don’t just feel anger. It’s a blood thumping rage,” she said softly. “It’s how I felt before I flew off to the Red Keep. I don’t want to feel that, to let him or anyone else in.”

 

“You think the solution is to not feel at all?” His voice was soft, concerned, and that caused the wound in her heart to ache, the ever painful reminder of how she ended up here.

 

“It’s better than killing thousands of people,” she whispered.

 

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I don’t actually know what’s worse, bottling it up and feeling nothing or letting it out and feeling _everything_.”

 

She glanced at him. “When feeling everything can cause you to lose control, that’s worse.”

 

*~*

 

Jon watched her, taking in the subtle changes in her expression. She wasn’t as good at blocking it all out as she thought. Sadness cloaked her shoulders, regret her eyes, pain radiated from her like waves onto the shore. If nothing else, it gave him a deep-seated feeling of relief that she knew what she had done was wrong.

 

“The past is over and done. You can’t change it. I can’t change it. We can only learn from the mistakes we’ve made,” he said after the silence felt like it was choking him.

 

She actually looked at him, her eyes brimmed with tears. “And what have you learned?”

 

He drained his goblet for a second time. “Trust my own instincts, not what others think.”

 

“That’s a good lesson,” she said after a moment.

 

He nodded. “A very difficult one to learn.”

 

She frowned as they looked at one another. He didn’t know what she was thinking. He remembered a time, right after they got off the ship headed North when he could tell what she was thinking just by a shared look between them. But now, it felt like he didn’t know her.

 

It hurt his heart that the trust between them had been so destroyed. Chipped away at by the outside world and insecurities. He hated that she’d felt so alone. He hated he'd made her feel abandoned and unloved. He hated he’d left her vulnerable. He’d change all of it if he could. Go back in time and hold her, tell her she wouldn’t be alone, explain the turmoil swirling around in his head and heart. Reassure her that he was by her side, not just as a subject but as the man who loved her. Truly loved her.

 

He barely shook his head. Not past tense. Nothing about them was in the past. Everything felt like it was on the surface, like an exposed nerve that caused pain every time it was grazed. He hated it. He loved how comfortable they’d been with each other, how the passion between them seemed to be a living, breathing entity all its own. All those nights spent on the ship speaking in hushed tones, secret smiles only for one another, being able to make the other laugh. How it had felt to hold her in his arms and know that she was something that was just for him.

 

“Do you think you’ll actually be able to do it?” she asked, breaking him free from the past.

 

“Do what?”

 

She took a deep breath and tilted her head. “Go against your family?”

 

_His family_. She was his family, too. His family and his love. He had abandoned her, killed her. If what they were saying about Bran was true, then he had to go against them. As for Sansa, she had sent men to kill the Free Folk and him. He had fought for Sansa, to get Winterfell back. He put his life on the line, the lives of the Free Folk to take back their home and she had sent men to kill them all. Before that, he would have said ‘no’. But as he looked at Daenerys once more, he knew his answer had to be different. He took a deep breath, his face contorted with pain of its own accord. “I’ll do what I must to protect people.”

 

“I’m not sure that answers my question.”

 

“It’s the only answer I can give you at the moment,” he said gruffly. “What about you? Do you think you can go into battle again?”

 

“I did it a fortnight ago,” she answered.

 

“Aye, you did,” he said softly. “This is different and you know it.”

 

She stood from her chair and went back to the window. “I hope so.”

 

He decided to push, wanting to know that she wasn’t going to burn everything just because she could. “You said you aren’t feeling things, you’re blocking it all out, but what if you're in a battle and you lose control?”

 

“Then I expect you’ll have no problem killing me once again,” she bit out.

 

“I told you, I wouldn’t do that again.”

 

“Sure about that are you?” She whirled on him. “You’re sure you wouldn’t kill me again? And what if I lost control while over Winterfell and burned the keep to the ground? Everything you ever loved is inside those walls. Would you be able to still your hand?” she asked bitterly.

 

He was on his feet and crossed to stand in front of her. “I’ve always tried to be a man of my word. I won’t hurt you again, ever, for any reason,” he swore.

 

She shook her head angrily, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t make a promise like that! You can’t! Not to me and not to yourself. It would breed resentment. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt people, Jon. You have to know that. I only want to save people. It’s what I wanted from the beginning, but… I can’t promise you I won’t lose my head and you can’t promise you won’t try to end me before I can do too much damage.”

 

He clenched his fists at his side. If this was their dreams, he’d already have her in his arms, holding her to bring her the comfort she needed. But in this world, she didn’t trust him enough. She still feared him and he feared her. “I’m not making a promise. You wouldn’t believe me if I did. You just said you didn’t want to hurt people—”

 

“I’m not going to give you permission,” she hissed.

 

He shook his head. “That’s not where I was going with that sentence. Let me finish.” She nodded reluctantly and he continued, “If you want to help people, then you can’t bottle it all up. You can’t. You were doing that before. You didn’t show any emotion when it came to Varys or Tyrion. You let anger and fear cover you. You can’t help people that way. The part of you that always spoke to me was your sympathy and empathy for the plights of others. Your kind heart. You pulled people to you. You were the queen they chose,” he said softly, remembering Missandei’s words. “They followed you because they believed in you. It’s why I bent the knee. I knew the world you wanted to build and I supported you in that completely.”

 

He took a deep breath, knowing the next part would be hard for him to say and harder for her to hear. But he powered through, knowing that he had to be honest with her, even if she didn’t like what he had to say. “After Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missandei, after Sansa’s deceit, Tyrion and Varys, you stopped feeling anything but anger and loneliness.” He cautiously took her hand and held it between his. “You’re not alone. I won’t leave you to suffer the world as I did before. I was wrong in doing that. I know it. I left you open to the vultures of this world and they took pieces of you when I could have stopped it.”

 

She squeezed his hand and sighed. “Jon,” she whispered and he watched as she swallowed thickly. Whatever she was going to say was causing her pain. “It’s not your job to fix me.”

 

He shook his head. “I’m not. I swear. But I loved and failed you. You were right. What happened is as much my fault as it was Sansa’s or yours.” He pulled her a bit closer and she came willingly, and the scent of her, her warmth, caused tears to form in his eyes. He thought he would never have that again. Never see her eyes looking at him like they were now, with affection and a bit of sadness. “I couldn’t get out of my own head and I didn’t realize how that isolated you.”

 

“I failed you, too. You put your faith in me and I destroyed it,” she whispered. “I know that. Some of my anger has nothing to do with you. It’s me. I failed everyone, Jon. I told them all I wasn’t here to be the queen of the ashes, that I didn’t want to burn cities. I wanted to make the world better than how I found it, and… I didn’t do that. I became everything people feared. Everything _I_ feared.”

 

He squeezed her hand. “We’ll fix it. Together.”

 

She removed her hand from his and swiped at the tears in her eyes. “No promises,” she said softly.

 

“It’s not a promise. But we will. We’ll fix it. I know it.”

 

She gave him a nod. “I’m going on deck to get some air,” she said and retreated from him. He didn’t move to follow her, feeling that she needed some time to herself, to work through a bit of it.

 

Their conversation had left him feeling raw and open. He needed it as much as she did.

 

*~*

 

_“Do you think we’ll ever stop having these dreams?” he asked._

 

_She took a deep breath, wondering the same thing. They were in the cave again and she was looking at the symbols on the wall. “What do you suppose these mean?” she asked, deciding to ignore his question. She ran her fingers over one of them._

 

_“I don’t know." He came and stood beside her. “I’ve seen these before.”_

 

_“Beyond the Wall?”_

 

_He nodded. “But not in the etching on a wall. The dead left behind parts of horses in this pattern.”_

 

_She looked at him and frowned. “Why?”_

 

_He shrugged. “We took it as a warning. We left immediately.”_

 

_“We still don’t know where he or his power comes from, do we?”_

 

_“Perhaps Kinvara can shine some light on it.”_

 

_She looked up at him and frowned. “I know they brought me back, but I don’t know that I trust them fully.”_

 

_He nodded. “I felt the same way about Melisandre. We’ll just stay vigilant.”_

 

_“We don’t trust each other fully, either,” she said softly._

 

_“Trust is earned,” he replied. “It takes time to build up.”_

 

_“And seconds to destroy,” she whispered._

 

_“Aye.” That one word, the way he said it, carried all the remorse he carried. She knew it was weighing as heavily around his shoulders as what she had done in King’s Landing laid around hers._

 

_She looked at him, feeling the need to confess to him, just so he knew where she stood. “I no longer want to be queen.”_

 

_He tilted his head at her in question. “What changed?”_

 

_“Me. The things I find important,” she explained. “I don’t trust myself with that sort of power, but as I told you before, I don’t think it would have made me happy. I felt I was the only option to free people. I know I’m not.”_

 

_“I don’t want it either. Ever,” he said with finality. “I need you to really hear me.” He turned her to face him, bringing them close. “I don’t want it. I never wanted it. I didn’t want to be Lord Commander. I didn’t want to be King in the North. I don’t want to be King of Westeros.”_

 

_“What do you want?”_

 

_“Peace,” he answered quickly. “I just want to live in peace.”_

 

_She took a deep breath and pressed her hand over his heart. “If we’re successful, your family would be out of power. The kingdom will need a ruler who understands the burden it requires. They’ll need to be someone fair and just. You are all of those things.”_

 

_He shook his head. “If you think I’m leaving your side after I just got you back, you’re severely mistaken.”_

 

_“Jon,” she said as she looked down, the proclamation making her nervous. She didn’t know if that was even a possibility for them. Part of her wanted it to be. The other part of her was quick to remind her he killed her and wanted no part of him. “What if I don’t want you with me?”_

 

_“You came back to me,” he whispered. “I took your life, I know you don’t trust me. I know. But even if we can never be together as we were, I will spend my life dedicated to protecting you.”_

 

_She rested her cheek on his shoulder, only willing to indulge in this sort of touching while they were in these dreams. He wasn’t a danger to her here. His arms wrapped around her and he pressed his lips to her hair. “Did I ever tell you that I hate these heavy leather pieces you wear?”_

 

_He chuckled. “No. Why?”_

 

_“It’s too thick.”_

 

_“And what did they wear in Essos?” he questioned and she smiled._

 

_“Much less.”_

 

_He ran his hand along her back. “And what did you wear?”_

 

_She lifted her head and gave him an indulgent smile. “You couldn’t handle it.”_

 

_“You don’t think so?”_

 

_She shook her head. “It was hot, constantly. We wore as little as we could.”_

 

_She smiled to see one of his eyebrows quirk upward. “It’s safe here if you ever want to give me a demonstration,” he whispered against her cheek._

 

_Her fingers slid into his inky black curls and she tilted her head as she looked at him. “You no longer find the idea of being with me repulsive?”_

 

_He took a deep breath and held her to him tighter. “I never found it repulsive,” he said softly. “I didn’t know how to process it all. Contemplating what it meant for you and I wasn’t easy, but I was having a harder problem figuring out who I was. Rhaegar was my father. Lyanna was my mother. Ned Stark was my uncle. You were my aunt. It scared me that I still wanted you as I did. I thought I was craven like Catelyn had always accused.”_

 

_She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around him. “If you are then so am I. However, we’re Targaryens. We’re not held to the same standards as others.”_

 

_“Shouldn’t we be?”_

 

_“Not if it means we get to have one another.”_

 

_He squeezed her a bit tighter. “When you put it that way, I don’t think I care so much.”_

 

*~*

 

Jon stood on the deck and watched the crew members move around, tying ropes down. He rubbed his eyes. Every night while on the ship, they’d shared dreams. Some of them seemed to last only minutes, while others seemed to be hours. All he knew was that he woke up tired each morning and was beginning to feel the ache in his bones from not sleeping. He glanced toward the captain of the ship, then past him, where Daenerys and Kinvara were standing. Her hair blew in the breeze and it was an all too familiar sight. How many times had he seen her standing on the deck of a ship, her hair whipping in the wind, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed from the cold?

 

_Not enough_.

 

“We’ll reach the Iron Islands this evening.”

 

Jon looked over at Dansax as he seemed to appear from nowhere. He frowned, glancing over his shoulder once again at Daenerys. He knew she was anxious to get to the Iron Islands and to her one true ally. He found it interesting that Yara was still willing to defend her after what she did.

 

“You worry?” he asked Jon.

 

He took a deep breath. “Can you read my thoughts?”

 

“That’s not one of my abilities.”

 

“No?”

 

He shook his head. “We have the power to heal, bring back the dead, fire is at our will because the Lord wills it so. But we can’t read your thoughts.”

 

He ran a hand over his beard. “I do need to ask a question.”

 

“Ask, Jon Snow.”

 

“Kinvara and Daenerys both said there was a babe. That she lost it.” Dansax nodded his eyes downcast. “Did… did it die quickly?” he asked, his voice cracking.

 

Dansax nodded. “As our queen did.”

 

“Do… do you know what it was?”

 

“Do you really want to know that?”

 

Jon hung his head and thought about it. Did he want to know? It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring the child back. It wouldn’t make Daenerys a mother. It wouldn’t make him a father. Would knowing help anything?

 

It wouldn’t. But he had to know. He looked at Dany again, feeling his heart ache at what he’d destroyed. He knew all the reasons he had killed her. Everyone that had run through his head, all the very real reasons that mattered to him at the time. But now, he regretted it all. He finally looked at Dansax. “Yes.”

 

“A boy,” he said softly.

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and felt like tugging at his hair in despair. A son. Their son. They could have named him Robb it Aemon. He could have been the thing that brought them both peace. A little boy that had her pale hair and fair skin. A boy he could have been the father to that Ned Stark had been to him. He loved him and he never even met him. He looked at Daenerys again, her brows turned down in concentration and wondered if it could have saved her if she knew before they had gone to King’s Landing? Would he have made a difference? Did she mourn as he did? “Does she know?”

 

He shook his head. “No. She’s never asked any more questions about it. It’s not the first child she’s lost. Part of her still believes that she can’t have children.”

 

Jon didn’t believe in the curse then and he believed in it even less now. “And can she?”

 

Dansax pursed his lips. “She’s not cursed like she thinks.”

 

“Is she cursed at all?”

 

The Red Priest frowned. “There is magic around her that would make it difficult for her to become pregnant.” He tilted his head at Jon. “You’re the lone exception to that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Your blood. _Blood of my blood_.”

 

Jon turned to look at Dansax and shook his head, instead of focusing on that, he thought about the complications of their beliefs. “I don’t know that I believe any of this.”

 

“You stand here, alive, because of our Lord. She stands on this ship because of our Lord. Whether or not you believe, at this point, matters very little. You are both proof of his power.”

 

“Is that it?” Jon asked, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to use both of us to spread your religion to the world?”

 

Dansax raised an eyebrow. “We will not have to do anything, Jon Snow. Your life proves enough.”

 

Jon put both hands on the railing and hung his head, his eyes closed. Everyone in this world used everyone else. It made him sick. Sansa used his parentage to destabilize those surrounding Daenerys. Varys used it to usurp her. Bran used her emotions to destroy King’s Landing. Tyrion used him to kill her. He felt an actual lump in his throat. He didn’t want them to use her. He didn’t want to be used anymore. But they were going to use the two of them to take out Bran and Sansa and to spread the word of their Lord.

 

He cast one last withering look at Dansax as he left the deck and went below and into his cabin. He removed his sword belt from around his waist and lay back on his bunk. Perhaps he could get some sleep before they reached the Iron Islands. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to keep the idea of Daenerys holding a little baby in her arms at bay. He’d robbed her of it. He knew how much it pained her that she thought she couldn’t have children. Before her, he’d never even contemplated it for himself. But knowing they had made a life together, it sent an ache through his chest that stole his breath. He should've taken her away. He should've run away with her when he arrived in Dragonstone and Varys began talking about usurping her. He thought maybe she would have gone.

 

*~*

 

Daenerys stood at the front of the skiff as they rowed to the beach of the Iron Islands. Jon sat just behind her, a few members of the crew rowed them and the Red Priests. She could see Yara standing on the beach and couldn’t help but smile. She respected the woman for her loyalty, bravery, and independence.

 

The skiff came ashore and Yara stepped back and her head tilted as she took her in. She knew it had to be hard to swallow, to see someone alive that you knew to be dead. “How?” was her first question.

 

“The Red Priests of Volantis,” she answered and Yara looked behind her, amazement on her face. Daenerys knew the second her eyes landed on Jon as they narrowed to slits. Daenerys stepped forward as she saw the woman trying to pull her sword. “He’s an ally.”

 

“He killed you.”

 

She didn’t glance over her shoulder to look at Jon. “Yes, I know. I remember what happened.”

 

“How can you trust him?”

 

“She doesn’t,” he answered for her.

 

“Say another word and I don’t care what she says, I’ll take your tongue out myself,” Yara sneered as she unsheathed her knife from her side.

 

“Jon Snow is not a threat to the queen,” Kinvara said as she stepped forward. “My Lady, it is dangerous for us to be out in the open on solid ground. Can we retreat to your keep?”

 

Yara turned her eyes to the other woman. “Yes," she answered before looking back to Jon, glaring at him with hatred. “The traitor can walk to the keep,” she spit, anger dripping from her tone.

 

Daenerys looked at Jon and noticed the shame on his face. “Actually, he needs a horse. Our reason for being here is one of secrecy and he’s part of the secret.”

 

Yara glared at him, but turned softer eyes to her and gave her a nod. “Can I at least make him sleep in the stables?”

 

Dany couldn’t help but smile just a little before she shook her head.

 

Yara rode beside her as they rode along the pillars that made up the Iron Islands. Daenerys had the hood of her cloak pulled over her hair, knowing that people would see it and it would give her away too easily. “How long after you died did they bring you back?” Yara asked.

 

“Two days?”

 

Yara shook her head. “Had I known, I never would have agreed to put the traitor’s brother on the throne.”

 

“There’s so much more than that,” Daenerys said softly. “But not until we get into the keep.”

 

Yara nodded and glanced over her shoulder at the rest. “How are you feeling?”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath. “Like I was stabbed in the heart by the man I love.”

 

“You mean _loved_ , right?”

 

She didn’t want to explain herself, least of all her relationship with Jon. It was complicated enough. “Have you received word from King’s Landing?”

 

Yara nodded. “A week ago I received a raven calling for the banners.”

 

“How many did you send?”

 

“Ten,” she said with a smile. “He wasn’t my chosen monarch but I didn’t want to make waves if I didn’t have to. The traitor’s sister threatened to kill me for even mentioning that he should be killed for betraying you.” She tilted her head. “By the time their raven arrived, I had already received word that an ally was coming to meet with me. I had to admit, I was intrigued. I thought it might have been that Prince from Dorne.”

 

“Coming from the North?”

 

“How better to throw off someone than to come from an unexpected place?”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “You won’t be receiving any ravens from him. He was killed.”

 

Yara's eyes went wide. “How?”

 

“Arianne Martell. She married him and he mysteriously died on their wedding night. She’s now in control of Dorne.”

 

“Smart woman. I think I’d like to meet her.”

 

“I imagine you will.” She looked up at the keep as they crossed over the third bridge. “How many men do you have?”

 

“Enough to man the three hundred ships I have.”

 

“ _Only_ three hundred?” she asked with a smirk. “I thought you’d have more.”

 

“I don’t have the men to man them. Otherwise, I would. And I wouldn’t give a single ship to the King.”

 

They climbed from their horses and she escorted them inside to the main hall. A table sat in front of a large fireplace. Kinvara and Dansax went around the room and closed the shutters on all the windows. Yara looked at her in askance and watching them made her uneasy as well. She looked at Jon who appeared just as confused.

 

Kinvara turned to them and Dansax barred the door. “There was a murder of crows heading this way. He’s controlling them. We can’t make them fall from the sky here as we did in the North. Too many questions to answer.”

 

Yara frowned. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is happening?”

 

Daenerys nodded. “I’m alive. Jon was exiled. But we were both set up. Bran Stark isn’t Bran Stark. He is the Night King.” She allowed that to sink in for a moment and she saw a glimpse of sadness cross the woman’s face. She wondered if she was thinking of her brother and how he gave his life to protect Bran. “He used all of us to get him as King. Sansa exploited knowledge she had to become Queen of the North. She has since sent men loyal to her out to encampments, pretending to be Wildlings, framing those Jon was with so she could have reason to send her troops North and kill them all.”

 

“Not that the traitor would be much of a loss.”

 

“He is important in the battle to come,” Kinvara said softly. “Otherwise, I would agree with you.”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath. Her eyes met Jon’s briefly, able to see the shame in them. “Let’s get down to why we’re here.”

 

Yara nodded and sat on the table as she faced them. “Very well. I imagine it’s to overthrow the two of them and put you on the throne.”

 

“I don’t want to be queen.”

  
“Want to or not, you may be the best choice, in my opinion.”

 

She gave Yara a smile. “I will hold power only long enough to establish that our pact is being honored.”

 

“You’re not going to let _him_ rule, are you?” her eyes cut to Jon, narrowing at him. She was practically snarling at him.

 

“He doesn’t want it either,” she said before Jon could speak.

 

“Then who?”

 

“We don’t know yet. But we will do what we have to do in order to repair the damage I caused.”

 

Yara frowned. “I suppose that’s fair. What do you need from me?”

 

“Blockade the port.”

 

“Oh, we’re going with that tired old plan?”

 

“There’s no one to challenge you,” Kinvara replied, her voice smooth and Dany noticed Yara’s interested expression as she looked at the priestess. “Your three hundred ships will be more than enough.”

 

“And what about the Queen in the North?”

 

“We’re going to deal with her personally,” Daenerys answered.

 

Yara suddenly climbed down from the table and walked straight toward Jon. “And what about you, traitor? Are you waiting for the right moment to kill the queen again? Biding your time to help your family succeed?”

 

“Yara,” Daenerys said, but she ignored her, still staring at Jon.

 

“My life is hers. My sword is hers,” Jon answered, his voice low, menacing. She had to admit that seeing him say such things did stir something inside her.

 

“You mean the dagger you stabbed into her or would this be the one strapped to your hip?”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

 

“No. You owe her everything,” she answered back, her tone equally menacing.

 

“Stop,” Daenerys ordered. “I’ve told you, Jon isn’t a threat to me.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

Daenerys swallowed thickly and looked at Jon who never took his eyes from Yara. “I have my reasons. They are my own.”

 

Yara slowly turned back to her and bowed her head. “As you say, Your Grace.”

 

She felt relief flood her as Yara stepped away from Jon and back to the table. “Will you join me for dinner?” Yara asked.

 

“It would be my honor,” she answered with a nod of her head.

 

“Traitor, you should be able to find some slop in the sty outside,” she insulted. “Exactly where you belong. With the other pigs.” Jon rolled his eyes and Dany could see the irritation rolling off him in waves. “Come, Your Grace. We’ll dine in my private solar,” she said as she held her arm out to Daenerys. She cast one last look at Jon and she saw his expression change to jealousy.

 

_Good, let him feel threatened that I would cast him aside._

 

She looped her arm through Yara’s and allowed her to lead her out of the room, Kinvara, Dansax, and Jon all watching her go.

 

*~*

 

“I have to admit, it’s good to see you alive and well.”

 

Daenerys took the drink Yara handed to her and sipped it. Not a great wine, but it would do. She looked at the other woman, sitting back in her chair, completely comfortable in her own skin. She remembered all too well being able to feel that. It was something that left her when Jon shoved his dagger into her.

 

“It’s good to see you, too.”

 

“Can I ask why he’s with you?” Yara asked with a raise of her brow.

 

Daenerys looked down at her plate, avoiding her gaze. “He owes me.”

 

“I agree with that, but can’t he pay you back by dying slowly?” Yara asked before she tore off a piece of bread and ate it.

 

Daenerys shook her head. “No. He helped put Sansa and Bran where they are. He’s going to help take them down.”

 

“Don’t tell me you still have feelings for him,” she asked, and Daenerys could hear the concern in her tone.

 

In her position, Daenerys thought she would probably be just as apprehensive. But she wasn’t going to lie. And the truth was that her feelings, while she still loved him, were tied up in anger, sadness, and betrayal. She could only really allow herself close to him in their dreams. He hadn’t done anything to rebuild her trust in him and he still didn’t trust her not to lose control and hurt people that didn’t deserve it. It was a mess. She knew it. He knew it, too. She shook her head. “What I feel is complicated.”

 

“You haven’t let him back into your bed, have you?”

 

She blinked at Yara’s frankness but wasn’t all that surprised. “No. My feelings for him, as I said, are complicated.”

 

They both remained quiet as they ate and she could feel the woman’s eyes on her. Yara finished eating before she did, and as she continued to stare at her, Daenerys grew increasingly uneasy. She didn’t want to talk about Jon. She didn’t want to think about him. She just wanted a few moments where she could pretend that it was like it was before.

 

“So, Brandon Stark is the Night King?”

 

Daenerys nodded. “It appears so.”

 

“Well, that explains a few things.”

 

“How so?”

 

“When he was named king, he said ‘why do you think I came all this way’?”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat. “The red priestess says that Bran couldn’t warg Drogon because our bond was too strong. But he was able to warg me just long enough. I was emotionally compromised.”

 

“He’s a warg?” she asked and Daenerys was surprised she didn’t know that.

 

“Yes. That’s why Kinvara and Dansax closed the windows. He uses crows, mostly, from what I understand. But they have magic that is blocking him from seeing us. When we were in Volantis he tried to use the birds to view us there, but they killed the birds, and they dropped out of the air.”

 

“You never cease to amaze me,” Yara said as she took a sip from her goblet.

 

“How so?”

 

“The people who follow you. Believe me when I say that finding out that you had the Reach and Dorne on your side was a shock.”

 

She looked at her plate again and frowned. “Do you know what happened to Ellaria?”

 

Yara ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Euron and his men took her and her daughter Tyene. The other two died on the ship. He gave them to Cersei as a gift.”

 

She shook her head and folded her arms over her chest. “All Cersei did through the years and no one remembers.”

 

“I remember,” she said softly. “As I told them at that meeting, you saved us from a tyrant. I don’t know what happened to you in King’s Landing. To be honest, I don’t actually care. I know when Theon and I got to you, you made an agreement with us even though we didn’t have nearly the force that Euron did. You had no problem backing me as a leader. You also told me that our fathers were evil men and we were going to leave the world better than we found it.” She held her hands out. “You and I aren’t innocent, either. We’ve killed people, so many we can neither count them all. But I still believe in you. I still believe that you are the best option for this world.”

 

“I don’t want to be queen,” she said softly. “I already told you that.”

 

“I know. I think you’re making a mistake. But I’ll support you. If you need somewhere to go once this is all done, you’re welcome to stay here.” She knew what the offer was, her smile wicked and enticing. She still appreciated Yara’s confidence. But it wasn’t a reality she could actually entertain.

 

She gave her a small smile. “I appreciate the offer.”

 

“You’re going to decline, though, aren’t you?”

 

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. We’ll see what happens,” she said as she sipped at her wine.

 

*~*

 

_“Do you think the priestess is controlling our dreams?” she asked as she appeared on the ship in her former stateroom. Jon was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her._

 

_“How was your dinner?” He ignored her question and she knew she should have expected this. They were going to discuss it here or in their reality, and truthfully, this felt safer._

 

_She walked around the bed and stood in front of him. “Nice. We had fish,” she said softly._

 

_“That’s not what I meant,” he said as he looked up at her through his lashes. “You know it’s not.”_

 

_“What do you want me to say?”_

 

_He huffed out a sigh. “That you’re not interested in Yara and I have nothing to worry about.”_

 

_She tilted her head at him and narrowed her eyes. “You have no claim to me.”_

 

_He stood and was suddenly crowding her space. “I didn’t say I did,” he said lowly._

 

_“Then you can’t get angry. You killed me, remember? At this moment, you’re lucky I tolerate your presence.”_

 

_“Oh, I’m lucky? Tell me, how am I_ **_lucky_ ** _?” He took a deep breath. “You’re tolerating my presence, but you hardly speak to me when we’re not here. And when we do, it’s nothing but judgment. I’m being condemned for what I did to you but it seems to me that very few people bring up what you did.” He shook his head. “I know what I did. I live with it every time I look at you. I live with the knowledge that I destroyed the person in this world who meant the most to me. I_ **_know_ ** _that—”_

 

_“And what do you want from me? To absolve you of what you did? I can’t! I won’t! Not yet. Maybe not ever!”_

 

_“Then what are we doing? Why are these dreams happening? Why are you keeping me on this hook if you have no intention of ever giving me another chance?”_

 

_“I didn’t say that, either! What do you want me to do? I’m sorry that the one image that keeps playing over and over in my mind is the look in your eyes when you killed me! You didn’t wound me, Jon. You_ **_killed_ ** _me. I know what I did. You know I live with that,” she hissed, feeling hot tears streaming down her face. “I hate what I did, Jon. I hate it. I wish I could take it back. But I can’t look at you without thinking of the knife you put in my heart.”_

 

_He brought his hands up to her face and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Then tell me you can’t forgive me. I’ll still help you with the rest of it, I’ll still stay by your side and protect you for the rest of my life, but I need to know if there is any hope in your heart for us.”_

 

_“There’s always hope. A fool’s hope,” she whispered._

 

_He held her face in his hands. “What do you want me to do?” The words came out strained, and she could hear the anguish in his voice as he closed his eyes and pressed his brow against hers. “Tell me what to do,” he said softly._

 

She was pulled from the dream abruptly as she heard someone in her room. She opened her eyes to find a man standing at the foot of her bed. “I knew it," he snarled. "You’re the Dragon Queen.”

 

“How did you get in here?” She pulled the furs up higher, covering her from his gaze that she felt sweep over her. She wanted to scream for help, but he had a knife in his hand and her body nearly revolted against her as the urge to vomit almost doubled her over. She moved back against the headboard, on the opposite side of the bed.

 

“I was in King’s Landing the day you decided to burn it to the ground. My brothers were on those ships,” he said as he walked around the bed closer to her. She moved away from him to the other side, and he was now between her and the door. Her only hope was to sprint from the bed when he came after her. She glanced at the door, hoping she could make it or scream in time for someone to get there. “You won’t leave this room alive, dragon bitch,” he hissed as he lunged for her and she darted from the bed. he caught her by the hair before she could make it to the door.

 

It burst open suddenly and Jon was there, his sword in hand. “Let her go.”

 

“Not until she pays for what she did,” the man argued, holding the knife to her throat. She pushed against his arm, unable to get him to release her.

 

“She already paid for it with her life.”

 

“She looks and feels pretty alive to me,” he said as his other hand came up and grabbed her breast.

 

She knew she was going to be sick. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. That’s when she heard Drogon’s screech and felt the keep shake as he landed on it. The man's grip on her slackened just a bit. She brought his hand to her mouth and bit as hard as she could, tasting his blood in her mouth as he screamed and released her. Jon took the opportunity to sever his head from his body. She heard the two separate thumps but didn’t look behind her before she leaned over and was sick on the floor in front of her.

 

She felt a hand rubbing over her back and it was all she could do not to fall to the ground and start sobbing. She was then lifted into his arms and carried out of the room. She clung to him, letting his scent ground her. She was safe. He had her. He had saved her. He placed her on his bed and pulled the furs over her. She stared up at him, his shirt was missing, hair unbound as he leaned his sword against the table beside the bed. He had saved her. Had realized something was wrong and come for her.

 

Kinvara was suddenly in front of her, her voice sounding far away. Her eyes found Jon, again. He had turned his attention to Yara who was standing at the door. But her eyes went back to Jon, watching him as he argued with Yara, putting a finger in her face as they yelled back and forth at one another. Finally, Dansax appeared and stepped between them, pushing Jon back.

 

“Jon,” she called him softly and everyone in the room turned to look at her. Kinvara moved from her side and Jon took her place. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around the room at the others. “C-can you leave us?”

 

Kinvara nodded and ushered the other two out. He reached up and brushed his thumb over her cheek and that’s when she realized she was crying. She took his hand in hers and leaned onto his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tightly to him, brushing over her hair. She began sobbing, and through it all, he held her. He was finally there for her, protected her.

 

Things started to calm within her only for her to realize she could still taste the man’s blood in her mouth. “I’m going to be sick,” she got out and he released her and grabbed a bucket.

 

She continued to sob. Each time she was sick, she cried harder. Jon stood and produced a skin and she took it hesitantly. It was water. She rinsed her mouth out, several times, and managed to not vomit again. He then handed her a horn of ale. She took it and drank it all. It had the desired effect of helping her calm down and blurring the edges of the world.

 

Jon took the bucket and placed it outside the door, put the other items on the table beside the bed before sitting at her side again. She stared at the scars on his chest and ran her finger over each one and he let her. “My life will always be in danger,” she said finally.

 

“I’ll be by your side,” he replied. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

 

“How did you know something was happening?”

 

“You never left a dream that quick,” he said softly. “I knew something was wrong.”

 

“Did they know?” She could tell by his expression he knew who she meant. The red priests and priestess.

 

But Jon shook his head. “No. Their concern seemed genuine,” he said softly. “Yara is going to put more guards on the castle and Kinvara is calling for guards from the ships to stand outside your door.”

 

She took a deep breath, forgetting for a few moments that she was supposed to be afraid of him. She leaned into him once more and both of his arms were around her stroking over her back. “Tell me the truth, are you alright?” he asked.

 

She shook her head. “No. I killed so many people. People who didn’t deserve it. Innocents. Children,” she whispered. “I-I had spent my life protecting them,” she cried. “I-I’m sor-ry.”

 

He nodded, rocking her slowly. “I know. I know you are,” he whispered. “I know you’d take it back if you could.”

 

She felt his fingers sliding through her hair and over her back. It felt so good to have him hold her again. Not in a dream, but in their reality. She’d avoided him since her nightmare in the cave, and he’d comforted her after that. Her body knew his, knew his touch, smell, taste. It would be so easy to fall into their old pattern. To let him kiss her and make her feel better.

 

There was still a part of her telling her not to trust him. But she shut it up, just for now. She needed him, whether she liked it or not. “Thank you,” she said finally and he lifted his head and looked at her. He brushed her hair from her face, tucking a strand behind her ear.

 

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice soft and his touch softer.

 

“Just hold me,” she whispered.

 

He maneuvered on the bed and pulled her against his chest as he lay back against the pillows. “You try to sleep. I’ll stay awake.”

 

She closed her eyes and let herself think about happier times where they were in each other’s arms. She pushed down her instinct to run, telling it that Jon had the opportunity to let her die but came running to her defense instead. He saved her life. That brought her comfort, just as his warmth did.

 

*~*

 

Gendry frowned at Davos as he surveyed the little pieces spread over the table. “How many men can we actually spare?” he asked. “Two hundred? Less?”

 

“Fewer,” Davos corrected. “One hundred. The War of the Five Kings decimated our troops. You barely have enough men to guard the keep.”

 

He ran a hand over his head. “We can’t answer the call,” he said softly. “Not from the Keep, anyway. What about the others?”

 

“It’s the same story with the rest of them. Between Stannis and Renly, our forces were destroyed.”

 

He looked up at Davos, still frowning. “Then we tell them we can’t send them.” They were both silent for a moment and Gendry sat back in his chair. “Did he say why he was calling the banners?”

 

“He did not. Just that they needed all eligible men to fight.”

 

Gendry sighed heavily. He did not like this Lord business. “Write back to them asking what the threat is. Between now and their answer, we’ll try to come up with a solution for the troops.”

 

Davos nodded. “Good idea. If the threat is his sister, we don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

 

“No, the Starks can wage war against each other without us sacrificing our men.”

 

He would also not take sides for Arya’s sake. She wouldn’t want that.

 

Gendry stood and walked to the window to look out at the violent sea. He heaved a deep breath, feeling the weight of ruling as heavy as stone upon his back. He and Davos had set up a decent bartering system with some of the homesteads. Gendry had even taken to going into the forge and helping with weapons just so that the people farther out in the country had a way of defending themselves. They exchanged some of their crops and livestock for weapons and even other livestock for different livestock. They now had fourteen pigs, six steer, forty chickens, and their stores of grain were building up. Should his people need to take shelter in the Keep, they would be able to provide for them. For a time at least.

 

Whatever was going on, he didn't like it. “This doesn’t feel right,” he told Davos, throwing him a look over his shoulder.

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“They called for the banners. Don’t they usually tell you who the enemy is?”

 

“They don’t _have_ to, but all the requests I’ve seen and sent _do_ say who you’ll be fighting.”

 

“He’s supposed to be able to see everything, do you think it’s possible he simply feels a threat is coming but he doesn’t know from where?”

 

“Anything is possible,” he replied. “What are you thinking?”

 

“He didn’t name his enemy, he didn’t give a date by how soon he needed troops, and he didn’t request supplies. This doesn’t feel right. It’s as if he knows that the men won’t come back.”

 

He turned and looked at Davos. “Finish the raven. I’m going to the forge.”

 

“Off to contemplate our fate? Or work out more new and inventive ways of making people’s lives better?”

 

Davos told him often that he was doing a good job at being a Lord and taking care of his people. He always felt as if he could do more. He was truly never satisfied with anything he did, always feeling he could do more or better. The same way he felt when he was making weapons. Each one better than the last but still room for improvement. “Something like that,” he replied and left the old man with a pat to his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you liked this chapter. I've been pouring over it for the better part of a week and it caused me much frustration and even some tears because I just didn't know if this was good enough. I'm not trying to bitch and moan and get sympathy. I'm just tired of people feeling like they can say whatever they want whenever they want because they're behind an anonymous name. It's not just fic, it's everywhere. I don't want to turn off anons because I know a lot of people read this that don't have AO3 accounts and I want to have an open discourse with people. If this fic isn't to your taste, then please don't read it. I don't want anyone angry or upset because this story isn't what they want. I just hope that it brings a little spark to some people. 
> 
> I'm rambling. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. And go out and read other people's stuff. FrostBitePanda wrote a lovely one shot that she posted last night that everyone should read. Also, you can find me on Tumblr @ ashleyfanfic.


	5. Chapter 5 - I Will Find Strength In Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany's attack from Jon's POV. They leave the Iron Islands. Jon is struggling with Dany about the news of their babe. And an unexpected complication arises when they make landfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to TheWolvenStorm and Justwanderneverlost for betaing this fic for me. And another huge thanks to JW for the gorgeous mood board. You ladies made this story so much better.
> 
> Note: Michael Fassbender is my Dansax. TheWolvenStorm told me I needed to make note of that somewhere.

**Chapter 5 - I Will Find Strength In Pain**   
  


_‘Cause I have other things to fill my time_  
 _You take what is yours and I'll take mine_  
 _Now let me at the truth_  
 _Which will refresh my broken mind_  
  
 _So tie me to a post and block my ears_  
 _I can see widows and orphans through my tears_  
 _I know my call despite my faults_  
 _And despite my growing fears_  
  
 _But I will hold on hope_  
 _And I won't let you choke_  
 _On the noose around your neck_  
  
 _And I'll find strength in pain_  
 _And I will change my ways_  
 _I'll know my name as it's called again_  
  
  
 _The Cave_  
 ** _Mumford & Sons_**  
  
*~*  
  


His blood pumped hard through his veins, fear and blood lust surging through him as he watched the man hold his knife against her throat and grope her. This man didn’t leave the room alive. He wouldn’t let him.

 

Drogon landed on the Keep, his impact and bellow rumbling beneath their feet and causing the man to look up in alarm. Dany took advantage of his distraction and grabbed his hand, biting down as hard as she could. The bastard yelled out just as Jon saw blood roll down his hand. She pushed away, stepped toward him and doubled over giving Jon the moment he needed. He separated his head from his body in one clean, hard swing. 

 

Blood pooled onto the floor behind her, as the head rolled almost under the bed.  Daenerys threw up on the floor at his feet, heaving and choking. He went to her, his need to soothe her overwhelming. Once she stopped, he picked her up into his arms and carried her out of the room and down the hall to his. He could hear numerous feet running over the stone floor, but they didn’t matter to him. Only she did. 

 

He gently placed her on the bed and looked her over. There was blood leaking from the side of her mouth as her tear-filled eyes stared up at him. It was a sigh he had seen in his nightmares ever since that horrible day in the throne room. He had to mentally still himself against the memory. He took a step back from her, needing no further reminders of how he had failed. 

 

Kinvara came into the room, followed by Yara. “What the hell happened?” the pirate asked.

 

Jon spun on her, all his fear and anger now having a source to focus on. “Someone came into her room to kill her. Her room in YOUR castle! Where are the fucking guards!?” he roared.

 

“I was told people didn’t need to know about her being here!” Yara yelled back. 

 

“You did a great fucking job on that one!”

 

“You don’t get to be self-righteous considering you’re the one who  _ actually _ killed her!”

 

Jon stepped forward, barely able to control his rage. Dansax entered and stepped between them, pushing against Jon as he pointed his finger in Yara’s face. “This is your fault! She almost died! You need to get more men to guard this fucking keep and you,” he turned to Dansax and pushed the man away, “need to get men from your ships to protect her! What would have happened if I hadn’t interfered?” he roared and advanced towards Yara again, her being the easiest target for his rage, but Dansax was between them again.

 

“Jon...”

 

Everyone turned their eyes to her, the world standing still as she stared at him. His mind reeled, having seen that expression before. Defeated, sad, haunted. She looked like that when he’d gone to see her after Missandei. How he had failed her then, too. She looked so fragile, nothing like the queen he’d been so used to. Kinvara stood and walked towards the door before she glanced at the others in the room. 

 

“C-can you leave us?” Dany’s voice was so small and scared. He could hear it now, was barely aware of Kinvara

 

He was barely aware of Kinvara making the other two leave as he moved to sit beside her on the bed. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, hating the tears that rolled down her face. He didn’t know how to handle her crying. It broke his already fragile heart and he swiped them away. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her on its own. He hadn’t held her like this since her nightmare weeks ago. Knowing all he did, he couldn’t deny it felt right. He wrapped his other arm around her, his fingers stroking through her hair, as he knew she liked it. She started sobbing and he felt completely helpless to ease her pain and fear, knowing he had caused some of it. He had helped destroy her. 

 

“I’m going to be sick,” she managed to get out and he grabbed a bucket for her. Kept her hair away from her face as best he could as the heaving took her again. He stood after a moment, finding that she still had blood on her mouth. She had fought, given him the chance to kill her would-be killer. He felt his blood boil as he thought of the man that had attacked her. He knew they would have to be more vigilant. Insist his room was closer to hers. Not with her, she wouldn’t agree to that, but where he could get to her if he needed. This wouldn’t happen again if he could prevent it. He stood as she sobbed, wanting to help get the taste from her mouth.

 

He grabbed the water skin from his table and handed it to her. She looked relieved and rinsed her mouth out, spitting into the bucket. Once she was finished, he handed her his horn of ale and watched her drink it all. She held the horn for a few seconds and her expression slackened. When she hadn’t moved or said anything, he took the bucket from her and put it outside the door. He turned to see her staring at her hands. He took the horn and water skin and placed them on the table beside his bed, trying to keep his hands busy so he didn’t pull her into his arms and hold her until the end of time. As the adrenaline wore off and he sat in front of her, exhaustion began to creep over him. Like he could sleep for days as long as she was with him. 

 

He noticed her eyes and their dark stare on his chest. He didn’t stop her as she raised her hand and traced over each scar. His chest heaved, his breathing erratic as he tried to get his body under control. He thought of how he’d received those wounds, the pain, hurt, and betrayal he felt. Those men were his brothers, sworn to watch out for one another, protect one another, and they had betrayed him. He looked up at her and a knot formed in his throat. He’d betrayed her, too. He’d reaped the same torment onto her. The discomfort and rage that came with being betrayed and killed. He had professed to love her and he’d killed her. It was all he could do to hold it together and not break down into a sobbing mess. 

 

“My life will always be in danger,” her voice was so soft he barely heard her speak. She still hadn’t turned her eyes from his scars. He remembered from their dreams exactly where hers was. From his dagger. 

 

He knew she was afraid of what had happened, who she was, what was going to happen. He wanted her to know that he would be there. He wasn’t going to leave her alone for the world to rip apart again. He was going to mend her, put back all the pieces he helped destroy.

 

“I’ll be by your side,” he said fiercely. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

 

She tore her eyes away from his scars and looked him in the eye. Her own haunted by what happened tonight, and before. “How did you know something was happening?”

 

He recalled how it felt to have her ripped so quickly from the dream. Like being dropped into a frozen lake, alone, afraid, cold, empty. He tilted his head and sighed. “You've never left a dream that quick. I knew something was wrong.” He hoped she never experienced the sensation for herself.

 

She glanced at the door, worry around her eyes. “Did they know?”

 

He followed her gaze, realizing who she meant in an instant. She had said something about them before, in their dream. Did he think they were controlling their dreams? But Kinvara seemed truly afraid for her and Dansax had been trying to separate him and Yara. As much as he didn’t trust them, he didn’t think they knew she was going to be attacked, which meant their power wasn’t all-encompassing.

 

He finally shook his head. “No. Their concern seemed genuine.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Yara is going to put more guards on the castle and Kinvara is calling for guards from the ships to stand outside your door.” Neither Dansax or Yara had agreed to that, but he would handle them in the morning and insist it happen. 

 

She leaned into him again, her head resting on his shoulder. He finally did what he needed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her, moving a hand over her hair. He leaned his head against hers, inhaling her scent, holding it within his heart to remember forever even if he was never given another opportunity. He stroked his fingers through her loose hair, remembering too many nights of holding her, their laughter and happiness taking them hostage together. He had hoped they would live through the war with the dead, that the gods wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring them together just to tear them apart. Part of him wished he’d died in that battle. Better than becoming the man he had. The one who had destroyed the woman he loved. 

 

He had to ask her, have her confirm for him that she was alright and the man hadn’t hurt her. “Tell me the truth, are you alright?” he gruffed out. 

 

The emphatic shaking of her head and the tears he felt spilled onto his skin told him more than he needed to know. It was all he could do to keep his own tears at bay. And when she spoke, his already broken heart shattered into a million pieces never to be mended again. “No. I killed so many people. People who didn’t deserve it. Innocents. Children,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I-I had spent my life protecting them,” she cried. “I-I’m sor-ry.”

 

He knew that. Knew that the real Dany, not the distraught woman he’d seen in her castle at Dragonstone or the one who had greeted him in the throne room of King’s Landing, but the real person would regret what she’d done. He rocked her in his arms, holding her tighter. The boy with the bastard’s name and the girl who couldn’t count to twenty were in this room now, comforting each other. The people they really were. He knew she felt remorse, wish he’d seen it that day to make a better choice. The right choice. “I know. I know you are,” he said, hoping he could reassure her that he knew her and her heart. That she would change it all. “I know you’d take it back if you could.”

 

He hoped it helped to soothe her. That even after all they’d been through, reaped on the world and each other, he still believed in her. It was a tattered belief, but it was still there. “Thank you,” she whispered finally and he lifted his head to look at her. He tucked a strand behind her ear, and the urge to get lost in her eyes nearly overwhelmed him.

 

But he choked it back, refusing to let it fester. This was momentary. He knew it was. In their world, she’d burned a city and killed thousands of innocent people and he’d killed her. “Do you need anything?” he asked, stroking his thumb against her cheek. He wanted to hold onto this indulgence for just a while longer.

 

She looked so lost but hopeful as she gazed at him. It reminded him of the throne room and he swallowed down the urge to sob and tell her how sorry he was, again. He’d never wanted to hurt her, and he’d killed her.  _ He killed her _ .

 

Dany’s voice was a soft whisper that caressed his face and warmed his heart. “Just hold me.”

 

He wasn’t going to question her. He would hold her, protect her, for all nights to come. He moved on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and she came willingly into his arms. She fit against him perfectly and he felt the ache in his chest as he remembered how he was certain that meant they were supposed to be together. Now it was a chilling reminder of all the hopes and dreams he’d had were crushed. “You try to sleep. I’ll stay awake.”

 

He watched her close her eyes and wished he could join her, meet her in her dreams and love her as he once did. Talk through it until they got where she could truly trust him in their reality. But not tonight. Tonight she needed reassurance that he was there to protect her. Her breathing changed and he knew when she had fallen asleep. 

 

“I will protect you forever, Dany,” he whispered. “I swear it.”

 

*~*

 

She awoke the next morning to find Jon dressed and taking a platter of food from Kinvara who came to the bed. She gave her a small smile. “Your Grace, how are you?”

 

She glanced at Jon and then back at the woman. She gave a nod and ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t speak, couldn’t really find the words to say all the things she was feeling. Relief that she was still alive. Pain at what she had done to innocent people. Anger that someone had been able to get into her room. And, as she looked at Jon who was now dressed and putting food on a platter, disappointment. She’d wanted to wake up in his arms, held against his warm chest, remember the safety that came with that. Kinvara glanced over her shoulder at him as he seemed to be oblivious.

 

She gave Dany a small nod. “Yara has asked for all of us to meet with her when you are ready, Your Grace. But take your time. Both of you,” she said with a nod to Jon. He followed her to the door and locked it behind her. 

 

He went back to the table and finished putting food on the platter. She held the blanket in front of her, feeling bare in her shift. Why hadn’t he looked at her or said anything? She feared that he wanted her gone. But she noticed her trunk in the corner by his, her heavy riding cloak hanging with his, more and more of her things appearing in his room. He finally turned from the table, a goblet in his hand, the platter of food in the other as he sat beside her. “I had Kinvara watch the kitchen staff make sure your food wasn’t poisoned. There are also two guards outside the door to help protect you,” he said as he handed the goblet to her and she saw that it was water. 

 

She looked at him, feeling nervous energy bubbling beneath her skin. She bit her lip as she turned her eyes to look at the platter. Eggs, bacon, freshly made bread, a few pieces of fruit. The eggs were done just the way she liked, slightly runny. The bacon was crispy, but not burnt. “Thank you.”

 

He gave her a small and fleeting smile. “You’re welcome.”

 

She dipped her bread into her eggs and took a bite. He seemed happy with that and he stood to walk back to the table and she could see him with another platter and he made a plate for himself. She sipped at the water and it soothed her raw throat. The last time she had cried like that had been in the sanctity of her own room on Dragonstone after Missandei’s death. Before Jon had arrived. “Did you sleep?” she asked, wanting to get away from the darkness that had consumed her.

 

“No,” he answered but didn’t look at her. 

 

She pressed her lips together. “Will you sleep today?”

 

He looked over at her and shook his head. “No.”

 

“Jon,” she started to protest.

 

He shook his head and held his hand up. “You have extra guards. I’m sure our meeting with Yara will be about your safety. But to be honest, I don’t trust her or the red priests. I made a promise to protect you, and I will.”

 

She shook her head, hating how stubborn he was sometimes. “You can’t stay awake forever.”

 

He came to sit beside her on the bed, his platter in his hand. “Eat and stop arguing,” he grumbled. She didn’t like the order at all. He wasn’t going to tell her what to do. Why couldn’t things have stayed soft like they were the night before? 

 

“I will not. You can’t stay awake all the time, Jon. You’ll get sick. Delirious.”

 

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re safe.”

 

“You can’t protect me if you’re sick.”

 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Daenerys, I’m done arguing about this. Eat your food so we can go meet with your friend.”

 

She shook her head, finding that she couldn’t put a bite into her mouth, wanting to know where this coldness was coming from. Was it just a side effect of his exhaustion? Or was something wrong? “Why are you being like this?”

 

“Like what?” he asked before he sipped from his own drink.

 

“Cold.”

 

He looked up at her, his face softening and he shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to be cold,” he whispered. She didn’t know why, but she believed him. He remained unguarded and she reached for his free hand and he squeezed her fingers in reassurance. “I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. Just tell me why?”

 

He looked away from her and at the door. “Just the cold light of day brings back all the problems we face.” He glanced at her. “Yara came by to tell me about the meeting. Some words were exchanged.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

“Well, there was a list of ways she wanted to kill me. Her favorite was to seduce you, let me watch, then gut me.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I have no claim to you. I know that. I gave that up when I-I killed you.” He paused and she was glad, needing to steel herself for his words and the shaky breath that he released. 

 

She could freely admit that she didn’t feel done with Jon Snow, not even almost. But there was trust missing, from both of them. It would take work and they might never regain what they had, and she knew that she had to decide if it was even worth the attempt. 

 

“However, it fills me with a barely controlled rage to think...it’s not right. And I shouldn’t feel that way. I gave up any chance of you when I did that to you. I know. And I know that you’ll never forgive me.” She wanted to shout at him to keep trying, to keep pushing, but she couldn’t find her voice. His words had choked her, making it nearly impossible for her to do anything but stare at him and breathe. “I’m still going to be by your side and I suppose I have to reconcile that eventually someone else will see in you what I do and I will have to endure that.”

 

She frowned, hating how her heart hammered beneath her chest for his words. He was admitting here, in their world, his jealousy. She licked her lips and looked around the room again, at her stuff mingled with his. A part of her thinking that this was how it should be, but she couldn’t help the cautious voice in her head telling her to tread lightly and not to trust him. After all, he had been kissing her when he’d plunged the dagger into her. How much betrayal had she suffered in her life by people who had claimed to love her?

 

Her dragons had never. Missandei and Grey Worm had been loyal. Yara, though even she had cast a vote for Bran, perhaps more out of self-preservation than anything. Kinvara. The red priests. Was that it? No one really close to her? They hadn’t betrayed her. But even as she looked at Jon, she knew he regretted it as much as she did what she had done to King’s Landing. 

 

“Someone once told me that forgiveness is as much about learning to forgive as it is for the person who is being forgiven.” He slowly raised his head, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “I’m not saying I forgive you, or that I will ever be able to, but I can promise that I will try.”

 

He blinked those dark eyes at her and she felt so exposed beneath his gaze, she always had. “Why?”

 

She took a deep breath. “Because I want to forgive you. I don’t like carrying this around in my heart. It’s difficult for me to hold onto it. No matter what’s happened, I remember us being happy, I remember being full of hope for the future and so much of that was tied up in you. I don’t know if that’s possible anymore, but part of me wants it.  Another part of me is screaming to run out of the room and never let you near me again.” She looked down at her platter of food. “I wish I could make one part of it go away. The part where I let you go or the part where I cling to you and  _ never _ let you go.”

 

He nodded and frowned. “Whatever your choice, I’m with you until the end.”

 

She looked up at him and gave a small smile. “I believe you.”

 

He gave her one in return. “Good. Now eat.”

 

*~*

 

She now had four guards from the red priests. They would rotate every eight hours. They were just making their way into the hall with Yara and Kinvara when Jon grabbed her by the arm to stop her before they entered. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

 

She nodded. “Yes. The longer we wait to do any of this, the harder it might be to remove them from power.” She tilted her head as she looked at him. “Are you ready for this?”

 

He shook his head and lowered his eyes. “No. I’ll do what I must but I’m in no way ready for it.”

 

She put a hand on his arm, trying to offer him some comfort. She didn’t envy him his task, but he was the only person who would be able to get them where they needed. They entered the Hall, Jon behind her. Kinvara, Dansax, and Yara all waiting. “Your Grace,” Yara said with a bow of her head. “Are you alright?”   
  


She gave a nod. “I am.” She looked at Kinvara. “Thank you for the extra guard.”

 

“Anything to keep you safe, my queen.”

 

“Which brings us to the point of this mission. You all will be leaving today, much to my annoyance, to head back to the North.” Yara’s voice brokered no room for argument. “I will be sailing to Dorne to meet with Aryanne Martell on your behalf.”

 

“Won’t Bran be able to see her?” Daenerys asked as she looked at Dansax and Kinvara.

 

“By the time she gets there, Bran will already know what’s coming for him as we will have attacked Winterfell,” Dansax replied.

 

She glanced back at Jon and finally nodded. “Very well.”

 

“The priests are taking your things to the ships as we speak,” Kinvara said softly. 

 

She nodded and looked at Yara. “Travel well, my friend.”

 

“And you, Your Grace. Hopefully, the next time I see you, you’ll be Queen of Westeros.”

 

She gave her a small smile and instead of shaking her hand, they hugged each other. “Be safe.”

 

“Watch your back, Your Grace,” she said softly. “Keep your hood up.”

 

She nodded. “I will. I’m sorry our reunion was so short.”

 

“As am I.” Her smile fell as she glared over her shoulder at Jon. “Actually do your job, this time, and keep her alive. And you know, don’t kill her.”

 

“Fuck off,” he replied and Daenerys turned wide eyes to him. He stared back at her defiantly, not breaking away from her gaze and almost daring her to say something about his reaction to Yara. That was much more aggressive than it needed to be. She knew he was jealous, but there was nothing she could do to settle him about Yara. 

 

*~*

 

She sat on the top deck and watched Drogon fly overhead, his large body casting a shadow onto the boat. Everyone else went about their business, but her. She remembered sailing to Dragonstone and watching her children fly over her ancestral home. Watching all three play over the water. 

 

Now, there was just Drogon. She wondered if he felt as alone in the world as she did sometimes. Her fingers reflexively stretched over her tummy and she fought off the sob that was threatening to bubble forth. 

 

_ No, don’t think about it! _

 

But how could she not? She’d been pregnant. Had she missed signs? Everything leading up to her death was so hazy. She had such a profound feeling of loss. Viserion, her Dothraki, her Unsullied, Jorah, Rhaegal, Missandei. She shook her head and looked down at her hands. Even Jon. She had lost so much, and when she woke from her own death, she learned there was a baby. Something that could have been a bright light of hope for her, if she’d known. Would that have changed what she did? Would it have stopped her? Would Jon have still killed her?

 

As if thinking his name caused him to appear, he walked across the deck and sat beside her on the crate. He handed a pouch to her and she saw it had dried meat inside. “They’ll be making dinner soon.”

 

She looked over at him, seeing the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Have you slept at all?”

 

“I’m fine,” he answered and shook the pouch at her and she took it from him. “You alright?”

 

She looked down into the bag, anything to keep from looking at him as she spoke. “Thinking about what Kinvara told me when I woke up. Trying to process it.”

 

“Which part?” His voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear him over the splash of the sea.

 

She looked down at her hands where they held the pouch, suddenly not hungry. She knew they would have to discuss it at some point, she had hoped it would be when it felt less raw, but even to this day, losing Rhaego felt like an open wound. “The baby.”

 

He rubbed a hand over his face and frowned. “I’m...”

 

“Don’t apologize, alright? Please? Neither of us knew. That’s it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know I could get pregnant. I truly thought I was cursed.”

 

He heaved a sigh. “I asked Dansax about that. He said that there is  _ something  _ around you, but that our blood worked against it, I don’t really know how.”

 

She looked at him and saw the same heartbreak on his face that she felt in her heart. She knew the pain of losing a child. Had suffered it once and she was certain that nothing could ever hurt as much. But here she was, reliving it. How was it possible to even love a baby that you didn’t know existed until it was too late?

 

He didn’t look at her. “I’m...sorry. That doesn’t seem to be adequate enough to tell you...”

 

She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t,” she exhaled sharply. “I can see where the blame lies. I know you, Jon. You wouldn’t have killed me.”

 

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have anyway.”

 

“It’s...excruciating enough, all that happened. Losing everyone and...killing all those people. I’ve been pushing this away.”

 

He sat straighter. “So have I.”

 

“We both failed. We both lost. There are no winners here because we still stand to lose.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t know what will happen, but I know,” he said as he turned to face her, “I will spend my life dedicated to protecting you. I failed you. I won’t do it again. I don’t know what happened in King’s Landing, whether Bran took control or it was your own grief, but I failed you before that. Watching you...destroy the city destroyed part of me, too. Because that wasn’t the woman I loved. The woman I loved had a good heart, a beautiful soul. And I miss her,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word. “She could make me laugh, which was difficult. She made me believe in a better world. But I knew she cared about her people more than anything. I feel like she’s the woman sitting beside me. But I don’t trust it,” he admitted, nearly spitting the words as if they tasted bad. “I want to. Gods, I want to.”

 

She nodded, trying to make herself speak. Their pain, combined and separate, was so close to the surface, like the wounds that decorated his chest, or the single one on hers. But she wanted to heal. She wanted it to mend. The fear that crept inside her, nearly choking her, from exposing this to Jon was silenced by her heart and the love for a child that she lost. “I know. I want to trust you, too. Who else could understand what it feels like to die and come back to a world that brought you so much misery?” She took his hand and he squeezed her fingers. “That even if you’re surrounded by people you feel totally alone because who could understand what it’s like to be free only to be dragged back into it?”

 

She could see the tears in his eyes and he shook his head. “I’d change it all,” he whispered. “I’d do it differently. I hope you know that.”

 

She nodded. “I do. I would, too.” She swiped at the tear that rolled down his face and sat back. “It's a long road.”

 

“And we’re on it together.”

 

She released his hand, needing a bit of space from him, but not so much that she wanted to leave him. She knew when she had first started feeling alone. When he’d stopped talking to her after he found out about his parents. She knew that even if every person in the North hated her, she could endure it as long as she had Jon. Her gaze went out to the sea, getting lost in the pink sky as the sun began to fade. “Can you please try to sleep? It’s been three days,” she whispered.

 

He shook his head and leaned back against the other crates. “No. I don’t trust anyone to protect you.”

 

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll come with you and stay while you’re sleeping if you sleep.”

 

He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “I can’t relax enough. I just...I keep thinking about how afraid you were and how I never want to see you look like that again.”

 

She stood and took his hand. “Come on,” she beckoned and he stood and followed her to her cabin. “This is an exception, not the rule,” she whispered as she removed her heavy robe and revealed the light, red dress beneath. He pulled off his heavy cloak and his sword belt, leaning it against the table by the bed. “Boots,” she demanded and he removed them as well. 

 

She climbed onto the bed and took his hand, pulling him down beside her. She lay back on the pillows and pulled him to rest with his ear to her chest and their arms around each other. 

 

The rocking of the boat was soothing and he entwined their fingers. She gave a small smile as she rested her head against his. “Do you want me to hum to you like I did the dragons?”

 

“I’ll get up and leave,” he groused. 

 

She chuckled and closed her own eyes, enjoying having his body pressed against hers. “Sleep, Jon Snow.”

 

*~*

 

They landed at Sea Dragon Point, which Jon thought was ironic considering there was currently a fire breathing dragon overhead. It had been five days since Dany had forced him to sleep, but he’d been so wracked with nightmares of watching her die he had refused since. The small reprieve he’d had was the most beautiful thing he could have ever conjured and it rattled him so much he hadn’t been able to close his eyes without seeing it. He didn’t want to let hope swell within him, he didn’t want to let himself mourn for what could have been. 

 

As they rode on their horses farther inland, even now his mind was awash with the image of the woman beside him, sitting on the beach of Dragonstone with a small child in her arms, both of them laughing as they looked at him. The child with dark hair and crystal blue eyes. Dany had smiled at him, supremely happy, the little boy waving at him. A lump formed in his throat every time the image came to him. It was like his heart was being ripped from his chest every time. The images never changed. What they were wearing was always the same. That was his son, the one he’d lost. He didn’t know how he knew that or the boy’s name, but he knew all of it. Aemon. His son. Their lost son. 

 

He pushed the thought away, though he longed to stay with it. He wanted to roll in it, let it choke him and drag him under. Drown him with the pain and torture him with his sweet face and her divine smile. He killed them both. No one else. He couldn’t even blame someone for manipulating him, though the feeling churned in his heart. It was his fault. He wasn’t stronger. He had abandoned her long before they got to King’s Landing. He killed his child. He killed the woman he loved. There was no honor in that.

 

He tried to distract himself with the scenery and realized they were coming to the woods of Deepwood Motte. Lord Glover, who had abandoned them on the eve of battle all because he bent the knee to Daenerys. He stared in that direction, wondering if Glover had scouts out and was watching. He stopped and Daenerys halted her horse as well. “What is it?”

 

“Deepwood Motte. Lord Glover.”

 

Kinvara and Dansax had turned their horses as Dany stared at the keep. “He left Winterfell before we arrived, didn’t he?”   
  


He nodded. “Him and the men who followed him.”

 

He looked at her and began riding toward the keep. He heard their force riding behind him, Daenerys catching up with him. “Jon! He doesn’t matter!”

 

He stopped his horse and she did as well. “He does matter! They all mattered! They...abandoned us, Dany! We needed them and their fucking pride was more important.”

 

She turned away from his gaze and he felt the anger bloom bigger and brighter in his head. “What are you going to do? Kill everyone in the keep? You told me he has a granddaughter.”

 

“And she’ll grow up thinking just like him,” he said, able to see the spires of the keep.

 

She shook her head and maneuvered her horse closer to his. “Don’t. We need to ride to Winterfell. We can’t...take time for all these smaller matters. If Sansa falls, they will, too.”

 

He looked up at her and frowned. “He was one of the ones to name me King in the North. And he left when he didn’t like a choice I made.”

 

She shook her head. “And he would make that choice every time, Jon. There’s nothing you or I can do about it.”

 

“Why are you being so cautious?”

 

“I’ve seen enough dead children,” she hissed. “I don’t want to be a party to more if I can avoid it. And we can avoid this.” She was breathing hard, her eyes brimming with tears and he swallowed thickly to see her so upset. “Look,” she said as she glanced back at the others who were giving them a wide berth, “you haven’t slept in days. Your temper is at the edge. I’m asking you not to do this.”

 

He still felt his blood pumping through his veins and he lowered his head and nodded. “Fine.”

 

She turned her horse but didn’t ride until he started moving his horse as well. They rode until the sunset and tents were put up, fires lit. He was sitting in front of Dany’s tent, staring into the flames, trying to get his anger to settle. A plate of food was held in front of him and he looked up at Daenerys who had her own plate in her hands. She was wrapped in a similar red robe that the others wore, though this one had her silver chain draped across her chest. 

 

He took the plate from her and she sat directly beside him. They ate in silence and one of the priests gave them a wineskin, which she took and drank, then handed to him. It was a decent wine, but he could have used ale, even the shit the Night’s Watch used to make. 

 

“I know how you feel,” she said after a while, both of them staring into the fire.

 

“Think so?” he whispered. “How do you think I feel?”

 

“That their deaths will be the only thing to bring you peace. They abandoned us, pushed us aside when they should have been looking at something besides their own pettiness.” She had her arms folded on her raised knees. “And Sansa took the North for herself and they fell in line because that was more important than ensuring the safety of everyone.” He frowned and shook his head. “Small men with small minds,” she said softly. “I felt that way when I met your sister.”

 

“Cousin,” he corrected.

 

She nodded. “Fine. Cousin.” She held her hands to the flame, even allowing the fire to touch her bare hands and he turned to look at her, still so amazed by her. He knew all the reasons he bent the knee to her. He never second-guessed doing it, really. It was the right thing to do. She had earned it. Rescued fools on a fool’s errand when it would have been easier to let them die. He still remembered the awe he felt when he watched her land Drogon, how he wanted to reach for her, hold her close, thank her over and over again for coming for them. That was the first real loss she suffered. She’d lost her allies, but losing her dragon, her child, had been a blow he watched her suffer through silently. Even when they found out that Viserion had been raised to join the army of the dead, she didn’t talk about it. 

 

“Can you touch the fire, too?” she asked as she looked at him.

 

He shook his head and removed his glove to show her the burn scar on his hand. “I got that from grabbing a lantern to save Lord Commander Mormont from a wight.”

 

She examined it, then turned back to the fire. “Viserys wasn’t able to do it either. The way he was killed told me all I needed to know. Fire can not kill a dragon.”   
  


He tilted his head and smirked. “That seems accurate. They always said I was more Stark than the rest of them.”

 

“You’re plenty Targaryen,” she murmured. “Certainly have the hot blood of the dragon.”

 

“Are you saying that I have a temper?” he asked as he glanced at her from the side of his eye. 

 

She nodded, a small smile on her face. “I saw it just this afternoon. Barristan said that Rhaegar was rather broody, too. Perhaps you got that from him.”

 

He brought his knees up to his chest much as she had. “What else do you know about him?”

 

Her smile grew a bit wider. “Ser Barristan told me that Rhaegar would go down into the city and sing to the people. He would take his winnings and give them to an orphanage or get them all drunk,” she said with a smile. “Apparently, he was very good. Viserys always told me how much he loved fighting and how good he was at it, but Barristan said he didn’t enjoy fighting. He preferred singing and reading.”

 

“I don’t like fighting, either.”

 

“I think you like using your sword, I don’t think you like the end result of what happens.”

 

He huffed and nodded. “That’s...accurate. I know how to do that. It’s at everything else I seem to fail.”

 

She looked over at him. “I always learned more from failure than I did at success.”

 

He snorted and nodded. “Aye. First thing I learned was that I hated failing.”

 

She smiled. “The second thing always involved some lesson. Usually a hard one.” They were both quiet and she looked at him. “Will you sleep?”

 

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. 

 

“Jon. We’re riding toward Winterfell. You need to be alert and at your best and you can’t do that if you haven’t slept in five, going on six, days,” she said softly. 

 

He looked around at the priests and priestesses standing around fires talking and shook his head. “I don’t trust them to protect you.”

 

“Who do you trust?”

 

“Myself,” he whispered. “You go ahead.”

 

She shook her head. “Stop being so stubborn. I need you to be your best and to go through this with a clear head and you can’t do that if you stop sleeping. It’s dangerous for all of us. Your temper is shorting, you aren’t really eating unless I force you...”

 

“Daenerys, leave me alone,” he growled. 

 

It felt like pinpricks were traveling down his spine and he stood suddenly, withdrawing his sword. She was on her feet beside him. “What is it?”

 

“Something’s coming,” he turned toward the feeling and saw a group of men on the horizon sitting atop horses. “Scouts!” he shouted and they were suddenly surrounded from out of the woods. “Keep your hood up,” he warned her, putting her behind him. Kinvara found them soon after. He looked at her. “Who is it?”

 

“I’m sorry, Jon Snow.”

 

“What does that mean?” Daenerys asked angrily. 

 

“Lord Glover,” she said softly.

 

“Where?” he asked and she pointed to the ridge. “You keep the queen safe.”

 

“Let me call Drogon,” Dany said as she pulled on his arm, her tone desperate.

 

“No,” he said softly. “Trust me?”

 

She hesitated for a moment and he wondered if she could. But she gave him a nod and released him. Dansax joined him as he walked to the edge. Lord Glover rode forward, other men flanking him. He stopped his horse as he stared at Jon Snow. “Jon Snow. Or should I say Aegon Targaryen?”

 

“Lord Glover. We’re looking for safe passage.”

 

“To what point?”

 

“Winterfell. I’m going to see my sister.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

 

“Your cousin.” He looked around at the others with Jon. “These don’t look like Wildlings or Night’s watch. Weren’t you banished to the Wall?”

 

“The Wall has fallen. We went around the rubble.”

 

He glared at him. “The Wall has fallen?”

 

“Weeks ago. I was going to meet with Sansa to help protect her,” he lied. “I was hoping for safe passage through your land to get to her.”

 

Lord Glover shook his head. “You betrayed the North by kneeling to the Targaryen queen. And then she killed thousands of people in King’s Landing.”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “I know. Unlike you, I was there.”

 

“You’re still on my land, boy. You have no title or power. Watch your tone.”

 

He heaved a sigh. “Apologies, my Lord. We’ll only be here for the night and will leave at first light.”

 

Lord Glover looked at Jon, his face souring. “I regret I named you king.”

  
“Yes, well, Sansa is your Queen, now. Regret doesn’t mean anything in this case.”

 

“You’re a traitor.”

 

“Are you going to permit us to stay here or not? I don’t feel like revisiting the past.”

 

“I want you and all your...people off my land, if not, we’ll attack and we have more men on mounts.”

 

Jon gripped his sword. “My army is all calvary, my Lord. Rethink your position.”

 

He heard the growling before the horses spooked and moved apart, allowing a snarling and growling Ghost through them to stand between Jon and Lord Glover. 

 

The trees behind them suddenly burst into flame and Jon looked over at Dansax and could see him holding a floating flame in his hand. “What kind of magic is this?” Glover demanded.

 

“You should have left when Jon Snow told you to do so," Dansax said. He closed his fist and the men and their horses, all except Lord Glover, fell to the ground in balls of flame. 

 

He looked horrified and drew his sword. “What have you brought to our land, Jon Snow?”

 

“You threatened the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. You are found of treasonous acts against the crown and against the Lord of Light. The night is dark and full of terrors,” Dansax said and Lord Glover erupted in flames.

 

Jon covered his face from the heat. 

 

“Jon?!” he turned to see Dany running toward him and she looked around at the group that was burning on the ground. She looked at him and she looked how he felt, concerned, but relieved. 

 

Kinvara was standing with Dansax, both of them chanting something and the fires all died. He ushered Dany away from them and back to the tent and inside. He put his finger to his lips and she grasped his hands. She was afraid. Even the low light of the candles inside told him that. He didn’t think she trusted them any more than he did. But voicing that out loud could be dangerous. He didn’t even trust the dreams they shared. 

 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to fight off the exhaustion melting into his bones. She pushed him to the bedroll and tried to get him to sit. He shook his head. “You need sleep,” she whispered, insistent. “You know you do.” He shook his head again, too afraid to leave her exposed to the world. “Lord Glover and his men are gone. The fires are out.” Ghost pushed into the tent and she took a deep breath. “And Ghost is here. Please, sleep.”

 

“Daenerys—"

 

“Jon,” she interrupted, her voice pleading. “Sleep. I’ll stay here with you if you’ll agree. It’s been too long and...I’m afraid you’ll get sick.”

 

He looked at Ghost who was sitting quietly, staring at them, his head tilted in question. He undid his sword belt and sat on his bedroll. She sagged in relief as she followed and sat beside him. He lay down, his arm tucked beneath his head as he stared up at the roof of the tent. Dany settled beside him on her side, her hands tucked beneath her head facing him. He still held his scabbard in his hand, not willing to let go of his weapon. 

 

*~*

 

_ The waterfall. They were back there, she was able to feel his presence before she saw him. She turned her head slightly and gave him a small smile. “I’m relieved to see you. That means you went to sleep.” _

 

_ “I’m still not sure it’s the smart thing to do,” he said softly. “I thought you said you didn’t want to come back here.” _

 

_ “I didn’t.” She looked around at all the untouched snow and turned to face him. “I suppose our dreams have a different opinion.” _

 

_ “Or we aren’t in control of them at all,” he replied.  _

 

_ She turned to face him. “I hope that’s not true,” she whispered. “I don’t want anyone, even the Lord of Light, intruding here. It’s...one of the few times I feel safe in the world.” _

 

_ “I’m sorry about that.” _

 

_ She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We have to stop apologizing to one another for things we can’t change. It really is beautiful here.” _

 

_ “We’ll be passing it on the way to Winterfell,” he said softly. _

 

_ She shook her head. “I don’t want to come here with them. This is ours,” she said softly. “Even if everything...turns horrible, we’ll always have this place.” _

 

_ “Do you think they’re doing this to us?” _

 

_ She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. I hope not.” _

 

_ “The alternative is that we’re so linked...is that worse?” _

 

_ “A few weeks ago I would have said yes.” _

 

_ He was standing close enough that when he turned she could feel his breath on her face. “You don’t feel that way anymore?” _

 

_ “More conflicted,” she answered. “I worry about you.” _

 

_ “I noticed with the way you’ve been ordering me around,” he said, but the slight curve of his lips told her he was jesting.  _

 

_ She stepped into the circle of his arms and rested her head on his chest. “Jon,” she said as she lifted her head his dark eyes shining down at her. “Let’s stay here. Let’s ride off together and live here forever.” _

 

_ “Do you think we could do that? Because I think we’d be hunted for the rest of our lives.” _

 

_ She shook her head. “I just know that...I’m so tired. I just...want to be. And I think I want that with you, but I’m still...afraid of you. Not as I once was...” _

 

_ He nodded. “I understand. I still worry about you. If I’m doing enough for you. I don’t feel like I am.” _

 

_ She brushed her fingers through his beard. “It’s enough to me, now, that you’re trying.” _

 

_ “I stopped before. I’m sorry.” _

 

_ “No more apologies about the past. We can’t do anything about it.” _

 

_ He cupped her face. “I would go back and remind you that you are not alone. You have me. Always.” _

 

_ She felt tears slip down her face. “I would have talked to you. I would have listened. I stopped along the way. All I could see was hurt and betrayal. I stopped seeing that there was someone who cared for me and just...needed time.” _

 

_ “I abandoned you, Dany. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” _

 

_ She nodded. “I didn’t trust you enough. I lost faith in myself. In everyone around me. I betrayed you, too. I love you, Jon. I do. Sometimes, I hate it. I don’t want to love you. But I can’t stop,” she cried. “Why can’t I stop?” _

 

_ He brushed her tears away. “I don’t know. But I’m going to be selfish and be thankful that you can’t. I love you. I love you, Dany,” he said before he took her lips in a desperate kiss.  _

 

*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're working through their stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. I just have this feeling that Bran was the one everyone should have been watching. That maybe he set all this up so he could become the true power in the Seven Kingdoms. I'm gonna get pretty in depth with that, so hang on. And Sansa isn't innocent, either.


End file.
